


CCC - Midnight Poppy Land One Shots

by lunarsugar



Category: Goliath - Fandom, Midnight Poppy Land (Webcomic), Quincey - Fandom, tora - Fandom
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 40,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25030714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarsugar/pseuds/lunarsugar
Summary: Tora and Poppy are forced to share a bed together in a tiny cabin in the woods.
Relationships: Poppy & Tora, Tora & Poppy Wilkes, Tora/Poppy Wilkes
Comments: 202
Kudos: 327





	1. Cabin in the Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tora and Poppy are forced to share a bed together in a tiny cabin in the woods.

Tora could hear the thrum of his pulse in his ear as he ran through the woods, feet smacking the wet, muddy ground in cadence. In his waistband, the gun muzzle was still warm against his skin. A low rumble of thunder crept through the silence of the woods, his breathing picking up. He knew he wasn’t going to make it out of the woods before the storm started.

Tora’s eyes darted around the woods for shelter, a crack of lightning spreading its tendrils across the sky overhead. The woods darkened around him, each shape a sinister figure lurking, knowing what he had just done.

Somewhere to the right, a faint glow caught his eye, and he skidded to a halt, changing directions, charging toward the light as the rain began to fall in sheets, his feet sinking farther into the mud and muck. The smell of a wildfire burning helped guide the way while he hopped over fallen branches and exposed roots with an easy grave.

He broke through the foliage stumbling on a tiny, rustic cabin situated in the middle of the woods. Just like in every horror he had ever seen, a flash of lightning lit the crumbling cabin a stark white, before a roar of thunder ominously warned him of the impending danger they awaited him. The cabin couldn’t have been more than 1-2 rooms, seeing the size and number of windows, from which emitted a warm, golden light from behind sun worn off white, lacy curtains, informing him that the cabin was occupied. Adding to the sense of population was the smoke flowing in gentle plumes from the chimney.

The decrepit porch sagged with the weight of an old porch swing. The perimeter of the porch was decorated by Victorian style banisters, whose balustrades had long since warped, some missing their decorative heads, others cracked, while some of the latticework was missing, falling off, or in some cases had become tiny little death spears.

“Fuck if I’m going in there for shelter.” Tora grumbled, and just as he finished the final consonant of the sentence, a crash of lightning burst through a tree nearby, pieces of the tree flying in all directions. He stood dumbfounded for a moment.

“Fuck if I’m finding somewhere else to stay other than this lovely, absolutely not haunted murder house in the woods.” Tora squeaked, marching himself right up the steps, which groaned in protest against his weight.

He had just raised his hand to knock on the door when the door swung open with a loud creak, flooding the porch with a ray of light at the same time a flash of lightning and explosion of thunder shook the decaying porch. Tora looked straight ahead, not seeing anyone who could have opened the door, deciding nearly to nope the fuck out of there because, well, demons, when a loud, shrill shriek of terror erupted below him, followed by a quick painful burst of electricity that brought him straight to the ground. 

The tiny hamster person danced around in dread, screeching, “NO! NO! NO!” And tasing Tora with each dancing “NO!” before pausing a moment. Then, he heard an intimidated,

“Tora?”

He cringed in pain, looking up at where the sound had come from, seeing a tiny head with big doe eyes and flowing brown hair peeking out from behind the door, hands clutching the old wooden door in panic.

“What the actual fuck, Bobby?” Tora grunted, hauling himself to his feet with a grimace.

“W—what are you doing lurking on my front porch like that? And how many times have I told you to tie your hair back? You look like that terrifying little girl from The Ring! And why are you—“ Poppy rattled.

“Ya gonna keep interrogating me out on the porch or can I come inside?” 

Poppy opened the door wider to let him in, and in he stepped, eyeing Poppy on his way in. Despite its appearance on the outside, the inside was welcoming:

A brown, stone fireplace crackled delightfully on the left wall, a small bronze kettle puffing out steam as the water boiled. A tiny overstuffed leather loveseat adorned with a red and plaid blanket sat atop a fuzzy white rug, a small rustic wooden coffee table in front of it. On the right wall was a tiny, dark wood kitchenette and a breakfast nook. Straight ahead, he saw a writing desk with a tall, brown office chair and a myriad of papers, framed photos, and pens scattered across its surface. In the back left corner was a closed door— the bathroom, he assumed.

“What are ya doing out here in this creepy as—Uh, creepy cabin all alone?” Tora asked as Poppy shut the door, wringing her hands nervously.

“Uh—my dad used to come out here when he wanted his space to work. I come out here once a year just to get away—like a vacation.” Poppy explained.

Tora strode over to the fireplace, unzipping his jacket, and peeling his shirt off of his body. In the golden radiance, Poppy felt like she was looking at a Greek god as the shirt lifting deftly off the beautiful sculpture that was his tattooed pecs, abs carved by Adonis himself, pants slung low on his hips revealing that delicious v. His body glistened with moisture, water droplets falling from his long, dark hair onto his body as he turned to look at her in all of her thirsty glory.

“Do ya have any spare clothes on ya?” He asked, amber eyes smoldering into hers. She pointed to the closed door in the back corner, and Tora nodded, heading to open the bathroom door.

“Oh, get a grip, Poppy!” She chastised herself inwardly, smacking her cheeks lightly a few times. “Staring at him like he’s a Thunder Down Under dude.”

Poppy had never actually been to a Thunder Down Under show, much less a *gulp* strip—club. Her mind suddenly drifted to her standing in front of the fireplace near Tora as he turned to her suddenly, the lights in the room shutting off as a bright spotlight landed on him. He pushed her down, and she bounced on the leather couch cushions as he approached her, rolling his body seductively to a song, climbing over her, hands on his fly as he provocatively unzipped it, and—

“What are YOU thinking about?” A low voice asked from over her shoulder. Poppy jumped, her face immediately flushing a bright red as she realized her mouth had gone completely dry.

“I—uh—nothing.” Poppy stammered, turning to face him.

“Yeah. That goofy grin didn’t look like nothin.” He prodded, ruffling his hair with a towel. Poppy noticed the strawberry hair tie jiggling oh his wrist as he did so.

“I have other ties if you want another one.” She said, motioning timidly to the one on his wrist.

“I didn’t figure ya the bondage type, Bobby, but please,” he put both wrists out, “tie away.”

“You perv!” Poppy snatched the towel out of his hands, smacking him with the wet end. He laughed rubbing his shoulder that was now covered in an oatmeal colored thermal, gray sweatpants slung low on his waist.

“Nah. I like the strawberry one.” He told her, using it to tie his wet hair back. Poppy moved to sit on the couch, squishing herself next to the left arm as much as possible when Tora sat down next to her. He looked over at her, saying,

“I don’t need that much space. You can scoot over a little.” 

“No, it’s okay I really—“ a loud crash of thunder rattled the house, electricity flickering, causing Poppy to jump halfway onto Tora’s lap. He froze in place, and she pushed herself off of his lap into the seat next to him, her thigh glued to his.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea!” Poppy grinned deviously, rubbing her hands together. Tora almost laughed at her evil impression and retorted.

“Alright. I’m dying to know, Dr. Evil.”

“Doctor who?” She asked, confused.

“No, that’s a different doctor.” Tora responded. Poppy blinked a few times, shaking her head slightly in confusion.

“You’re cute.” Tora laughed, pinching her cheek, much to her displeasure. “Alright, what’s ya idea?”

“Let’s watch a scary movie!” She threw her hands up in excitement. He looked at her like she had lost her mind, glancing around the cabin, not seeing a TV screen.

“Uh—Bobby. Are ya planning on acting out the movie? Like I’m the killer and you’re the helpless dumb teenager stuck in a cabin with this murderer in the woods?” He asked, and for a moment, he had a pang of regret at having said that because that was almost the scenario that really was playing out before them except she wasn’t dumb, helpless, or a teenager.

“No. I have a laptop!” Poppy grinned, standing and heading to the bathroom to retrieve the laptop from her bag before heading back to the couch and opening it up. “Besides, if we were acting, I would be the killer and you would be the helpless, dumb teenager.”

“In ya dreams, sweetheart.” Tora rolled his eyes. “Besides, are you sure you wanna watch a scary movie? You were in my lap when ya heard the last clap of thunder. You sure you can handle a scary movie in the middle of a storm, in the dark, with a terrifying thug sitting next to ya?”

Poppy looked up at him, second guessing her brilliant plan. An ominous rumble of thunder rattled the cabin, and Poppy swallowed hard.

“Y—yeah. I’m sure. Besides, if there are any monsters in the woods, you won’t let them get to me, right?” Her little doe eyes were wide in terror as she looked up at Tora, and like the sucker he was, he was powerless against her.

“Yeah. I’d get them before they got to ya.” He told her, looking away from her, not wanting her to see him blush.

“Good! Because I eeeekkkkk!” Poppy shrieked at the sound of a high pitched whine emitting from somewhere in the cabin. Tora laughed at her, getting up from the couch, grabbing a hot mit, and taking the kettle off of the fire.

“The big scary monster kettle is done boiling.” Tora teased her. “Where should I put it?”

Poppy scrambled up off of the couch, taking the kettle from him and heading into the kitchen, where she set it down on the stone countertop. She opened the lid, steam pouring out of it, and steeped two tea bags inside of it and set the little manual kitchen timer to about five minutes. She turned to leave the kitchen, finding Tora standing next to her. He was smirking at her, and she almost let out a sarcastic remark, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the sound of the rain hitting the tin roof, the low rhythmic tinkling lulling her into a trance. It could have been the way that his smile disappeared when his expression changed, forming a hard line. Maybe it was the way he took a single step forward to close the distance between the two of them, causing Poppy to hold her breath.

He reached down, his hands grazing her hips and he looked into her eyes for permission. When she didn’t pull away, he picked her up, putting her on the counter, his body pressed between her legs, and with shaking hands, he slid his hands around her sides, appreciating the curve of her body, pulling her forward so that her body was touching his. She found herself unable to look at him, intimidated by the prospect of romantic touch with him.

Poppy wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, and they found themselves glued to the countertop as the silence between them thickened, a low roll of thunder slicing through the suffocation of it. She felt her heart rate quickening, breath coming a little faster now as he gently trailed the back his hands up her arms to her shoulders, sending a shiver up her spine, gently grazing her neck. He ran his thumbs over her cheek, and she finally found herself able to look into his eyes, finding the same uncertainty in his eyes that she was sure she had in hers.

Gently, he tilted his head to the side, leaning toward her, lips only an inch from hers, when suddenly

RRRRIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG

The two of them jumped, Tora jumping backward, Popping leaping straight up, hitting her head on the upper cabinets.

“I—I got—uh—tea is ready! I’ll bring it to you on the couch.” She muttered, turning sideways to open a cabinet and grabbing two tin mugs out of the cabinet, her face beet red.

“Yep, yeah. I’ll be there.” He pointed toward the couch, nearly running to get there. Poppy hopped down off of the counter, pouring the tea and stirring in a little sugar into each mug, heading into the living room with them. She set the cups down, and Tora fidgeted with his fingers, grabbing the cup, and just as she was saying,

“Be careful! It’s ho—“

Tora jumped with a grimace at the scorching heat of the liquid, setting the mug back down with a heated,

“Fuck!”

Poppy giggled, opening her laptop and clicking onto Setflix.

“Alright. What kind of movie?” She laughed. Tora was still running his tongue on the on the roof of his scalded mouth. He grimaced, squeezing out the words,

“How about a cabin in the woods type movie?”

“Good choice.” Poppy grinned, selecting the movie Heinous Dead from the playlist. She galloped excitedly over to the lights, shutting them off so that the only light left was that of the fireplace, the glow of the laptop, and the occasional blue flash of light from the lightning. She settled into the couch as the movie began. 

Tora could not help but be acutely aware of the heat of Poppy’s body inching closer to his as the movie became progressively more intense. He wanted to laugh at her as she ripped the blanket off the back of the couch and holding it up to her nose, peeking over the fuzzy plaid. He watched Poppy’s eyes widen in terror as a girl in the movie took an electric meat cutter to her arm, sawing through the decaying flesh, and Poppy hid her head under the blanket until she heard the girl say,

“I feel much better now.”

Suddenly a loud roar of thunder sounded, rattling the cabin as Poppy shrieked in terror as the movie went into an endless buffering mode, the internet shut off with the power.

“And at that, I think it’s time to go ahead and call it a night.” Tora laughed, pulling the blanket off of her head and shutting the laptop. Poppy scrambled off of the couch to grab a few spare flashlights from the drawer of the writing desk. She returned, handing Tora a flashlight and said,

“If you’ll hop up off of the couch, this converts into a bed.”

He obliged and then looked around the cabin, asking,

“Where can I sleep?”

“W—we could share the bed. I don’t have any other blankets besides the ones on the bed in the couch.” She told him. She was a liar and she knew it. There was another set of blankets in then bathroom closet on the top shelf and a blow up mattress, but she was afraid to sleep alone. Plus, if she was being honest with herself, she did want to sleep next to Tora.

“Alright.” He conceded, helping her remove the couch cushions and pull out the bed. 

“Uh—I’m going to go change into PJs.” Poppy told him, and he watched her all but sprint to the bathroom. He blinked a few times, then pulled off his thermal, lounging back to wait for her. The storm outside was still raging on, and he wasn’t sure how a flood hadn’t overtaken them yet, but here they were. 

Poppy emerged from the bathroom in those damned little orange shorts and white t-shirt.

“Uh oh.” He found himself thinking. “This is not good.”

He looked away from her, trying to calm himself down, but found it becoming even harder to do that as she slid into the bed next to him. The fire had become little more than an orange glow as the two of them laid down awkwardly next to each other in bed.

“Here.” He said, grabbing a few of the cushions off the floor and building a cushion barrier between the two of them. “So ya don’t feel like I’m gonna do something to ya.”

Poppy felt a twinge of disappointment as he erected the makeshift wall between the two of them, and found herself pouting, crossing her arms. She stared at the ceiling, looking at the shapes the flickering fire made as they lay in silence. 

“Tora?” She whispered. He made a sound to show her he heard her call. “What were you doing out in the woods?”

On the other side of the barrier, a very nervous Tora’s mind raced as he struggled to come up with an answer.

“I was—here on some business.” He answered truthfully. Poppy swallowed at that ominous admission. She pulled the pillow barrier down, one by one so she could see his face. He was laying on his back with his hands behind his head.

“Wh—what kind of business?” She asked, rolling to her side to look at Tora. Tora glanced at her out of the corner of his eye and the sighed, rolling over to face her, gentle amber eyes boring into hers.

“Are you sure you want to know the answer to that?” He asked her. Poppy bit her lip, certainly curious about what he was doing, but with an answer like that, unsure if she really did want to know the truth. He waited, staring at her, and she finally said,

“I’m not sure.”

He nodded, another low roll of thunder sounding outside the cabin. She glanced up at him and then asked,

“Would you really tell me the truth if I wanted to know?”

“I would.” He said without hesitation, dead serious. She nodded.

“Would you tell me the truth if I wanted to know something?” He asked her.

“I suppose so.” She nodded, and she saw a flash of emotions go through his eyes, before he pressed,

“When we were in the kitchen, would you have let me kiss ya?”

Poppy’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch, her heart slamming into her chest as her face flushed a bright red. Her brain couldn’t function well enough to answer, so she just stared, and the wait was killing him. Finally she answered,

“Yes.”

His mouth went dry when she answered. And he felt his heart racing, fighting the urge to reach out to her without her permission.

“And—if I wanted to finish what we started in the kitchen—would ya let me?” He breathed, daring to hope her answer would be the same, unsure of how he would restrain himself around her. She made him feel so damned impatient, and he just wanted to yank her close, strip her down, and have his way with her, but she was way too precious to him to actually ever do that—without her permission.

Poppy stared at him a moment longer, and then her lips formed the word,

“Yes.”

He felt like his soul was lit on fire at that answer; and he wanted his whole body to melt into her. He wanted to fly and scream and shout and whoop and holler, but instead, he reached out, pulling her body closer to his. He could hear her breath trembling, nervous about what she knew was inevitable and his hand lingered on her waist. In one motion, he pulled her body onto his, sitting up with her, and she, straddling his body, sitting in his lap. 

He put his hands on her face, and she leaned into them, closing her eyes, relishing the warmth and comfort of them as he pressed his forehead to hers, and her eyes opened again, looking straight into his. This time, he didn’t want to wait for an interruption. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, and she responded by wrapping her arms around his neck.

So this was what it felt like to be fully and irrevocably attracted to someone—to want to take all of them for yourself. Neither Poppy nor Tora has ever felt so compelled to show as much restraint as both of them were, despite Poppy being the shyer of the two. He heard her inhale, and press herself to him, deepening the kiss as his tongue found hers in her mouth. He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back to break the kiss so he could trail heated kisses along her neck, tiny gasps leaving her lips as she melted into him, allowing his hands to freely explore her body, running down her back, to the skin under her shirt.

She shivered, his fingers grazing her lower back, desperate for any touch from her. She ran her hands over his chest, appreciating his body, over his shoulders, and down to his arms and hands, which she laced into her own, guiding them to the hem of her shirt, which he slowly lifted up over her head, leaving her in a tiny t-shirt bra. He leaned her back, gently guiding her into the bed, wanting to explore her body with his hands and his mouth, selfishly wanting to taste and feel every inch of her body.

He explored her stomach, her breasts, her neck, and her ears, hearing her sigh in appreciation at the sensations his lips and hands created in her body, and for the first time, she wanted him to do more than just kiss her. She had never wanted someone to move beyond kissing her and touching her the way that she did with Tora. The thought of anyone else touching her that way just seemed wrong, but when it came to Tora, she was pretty sure she would let him do anything to her body that he really wanted to.

His lips came back to hers, kissing her senseless as his hands traced the waistband of her shorts, dipping into them to touch the little bits of flesh, as her hands smoothed themselves over his abs, trailing down to his waistband. She could feel him against her through his sweatpants, rigid, completely taken by her, wanting her. She had just begun to slide her hand down into his pants when his hand stopped her, breath coming hard as he did.

“Maybe we should stop.” He told her, and even though he wanted to kick his own ass for saying that. The last thing he wanted was for her to regret anything with him. He didn’t want her to be intimidated by him or run away from him because he scared her in any way, and he had a feeling that she had never been touched that way before much less touched anyone else that way.

“Wha—why?” Poppy whined and he smirked at her, planting a chaste kiss on her lips.

“Because that’s the first time you’ve kissed me like that, and I want ya to make sure you’re comfortable before ya decide ya want to move to the next level with me the next time ya kiss me.” He told her, climbing off of her. He lay on his back, pulling her close to his body.

“No. I kissed you on the rooftop once.” She argued weakly, nuzzling close to his chest.

“Yeah, and then ya shoved my hood over my head and pushed me down the stairs.” He grumbled. 

“I wouldn’t say I pushed you—“ she mumbled.

“It was definitely an I’m-trying-to-kill-you-for-daring-to-allow-me-to-kiss-ya vengeance shove.” He argued back. She said nothing, knowing he was absolutely right. 

“When you say, ‘The next time ya kiss me,’ does that mean you want to kiss me again?” She asked, daring to peek up at him through her eyelashes.

“You bet your cute little ass I do.” He told her. She smiled smugly, snuggling closer to him in satisfaction.

“The Greek God wants to kiss me, bitches.” She found herself praising herself inwardly. He leaned down into her ear and whispered,

“And if ya finally do let me move to the next level with ya, you can also bet your cute little ass that you won’t walk straight for a week.”

Oh. My. God. She felt herself instantly turned on by that bold statement and a little embarrassed by it at the same time. He ran his fingers in circles comfortingly on her back, fantasizing about what he might do to her that wouldn’t allow her to walk straight for a week. She had read “The Secret Garden,” and she knew all the different ways a man could take a woman. She imagined he was the rough sex type, and just that little bit of imagination was absolutely thrilling for her.

“What are you smiling about down there?” He teased.

“Wha—me? Nothing!” Caught red handed.

“Perv.” He snickered at her, and her head flew up defiantly, meeting his eyes seriously. His smile immediately faded.

“Did you just call me a perv?” She growled. Tora wasn’t sure how to answer because the sudden shift in mood scared the shit out of him. He met her eyes uncomfortably and answered,

“Uh—yes?”

“I’ll show you perv.” She launched herself on top of his body, holding his lips hostage again and Tora flailed in surprise, eventually settling down and kissing her back. Poppy felt like she could kiss him forever and wanted to, but thought he might find that a little weird (and she was wrong). Tora flexed his hips, and she rocked against him, his eyes widening at the friction between the two of them, before he broke the kiss, saying,

“Alright, alright. Now that I’ve turned you away from your pure side and toward more lusty intentions...”

She climbed off of him, secretly proud that she had turned him on the way that she did and lay against his arms, her heart rate slowing back to a normal speed, as her eyes became heavy, consciousness fading with the sound of the rolling storm.

Tora looked down at this cute little hamster he was laying with. He wondered what good he had ever done in his life to stumble upon this rustic cabin and straight into the arms of this girl. Maybe in his past life, he had done enough to deserve her, but not in this lifetime. He held her a little tighter, relishing the warmth of her body and the feeling of her breath against his body.

Maybe. Just maybe. He could do something to make himself worthy of her in this lifetime. 

He wanted to stay awake forever, afraid that this might be the only chance he would have to hold her like this, but exhaustion got the better of him, and he too succumbed to the bliss of sleep.

***

“Welp. Time to go home.” Poppy grinned, throwing her backpack over her shoulder. Tora met her at the door, and off they went toward the city.

“How did you get here?” Tora asked her, his hands in his pockets, fumbling with his car keys.

“I walked!” Poppy smiled delightfully. She was in the brightest mood that morning. Tora paused, grabbing her wrist. 

“You WALKED?” He nearly shouted. Poppy shifted uncomfortably, and then answered,

“Yeah?”

“Poppy, the nearest transportation station from here is ten miles.” He told her incredulously.

“Yeah, I know. I took the bus to Narin Station East, and I walked.” She nodded. “I like walking.”

She walked. She fucking walked. Does she realize how dangerous that is? A young girl walking alone in the woods for ten fucking miles? Any perv could have been waiting for her and jumped her.

“You can’t do that. It’s dangerous.” He told her.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Poppy agreed, digging around her backpack and pulling out her pink taser. “I might run into big, bad thugs in these woods. Come to think of it, there’s one right in front of me.”

“Ah!” He yelled, dodging a flying taser. “Stop it!”

She jabbed the taser at him, laughing.

“Stahp!” He shouted, and when she jabbed at him again, he took her gently by the wrist, pulling the taser out of her hand, and crushing her against his body.

“Looks like the big, bad thug has disarmed ya and is holding ya hostage against your will. What are ya gonna do now?” He growled. Poppy looked up at him, heat burning through her eyes as she stood on her tiptoes, pulling him down by his jacket and kissing him. She was just about to deepen the kiss when she felt an electric shock on her butt.

“YEOW!” She shrieked, jumping up. He cackled, catching her in his arms and holding her to his chest as her eyes shot daggers at him.

“Oops. My bad.” He laughed even harder at Poppy’s glare. He set her down on the floor, giving her her taser back, which she shoved into her backpack, marching off, grumbling,

“And here I was trying to be sweet and give you a nice kiss and what do you do? Yeah, you tase me in my butt and you—“ 

And Tora ran to catch up with her, enjoying her temper tantrum through the woods, and all the way to his car, where he would apologize—well, probably anyway.


	2. The Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CCC Prompt
> 
> Using the media of your choice, let's bring our tiger back together with his little flower. Give us a reunion that will make us breathe a sigh of relief and blame the onions in the room for our eyes leaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone, take a deeeepppp breath. If you’ve read my work, you know I’m not all rainbows and sunshine’s and fluff, but hey! At least you’ll breathe a sigh of relief at some point 😭

“Now for tonight’s top story:” Poppy glanced over at her laptop screen, spatula in hand as the meat in her frying pan sizzled. She turned down the heat, knowing full well her attention would be captured by the news story, not willing to risk her dinner or the wrath of the other tenants of her apartment if she set the smoke alarm off, forcing a complex wide evacuation. 

The camera switched: red and blue flashing lights from multiple police cars and SWAT vehicles lit up the streets of Narin City. A barrier had been put in place on the street, blocking the flow of traffic into the Ares Street District. Within that barrier, a helicopter view showed several men down on the ground, hands pressed behind their back, some bleeding, and all grimacing against the relentless pressure of the handcuffs and several exhausted officers holding them down. Each night, Poppy’s eyes flicked across the screen, looking for that long, wild black hair.

“You were never kidding about any of the thug stuff...were you?” Her voice echoed in her mind, still feeling the warmth of his strong grip on her shoulder, a phantom sensation that lingered long after he had gone.

“Might not be able to tell ya everythin’ about me.” He had told her, and that in itself was enough to tell her that he truly was what he always said he was. 

The prospect of allowing herself to be around someone like him truly scared Poppy. She had always assumed that all that thug talk was just that...talk; a way for him to tease her, and that was mainly because she had never really been around someone like him. 

Before she knew him, if she had seen him coming toward her on a sidewalk, she was fairly certain she would’ve crossed the street so as not to cross paths with him because, in reality, he truly was that intimidating.

But now that she knew him.

Well, now that she knew who Tora really was, she would give just about anything to be able to cross paths with him again. To pass him on the street and know that he was doing okay because she couldn’t text him to ask him. 

Just knowing now what she knew about him, the prospect of being around someone like Tora was thrilling. He made her feel things that she never felt with anyone else; this feeling like she was doing something wrong and getting away with it.

Besides all that, he made her feel confident in herself; like she could do anything she wanted to do because he said she could. He made her feel beautiful because HE had said she was beautiful, and she trusted his opinion. He made her feel safe. Cared for. Wanted. 

But that was the thing. It was all past tense. Made. Cared for. Wanted. Just as quickly as he had blown into her life with his pervy camera skills and scandalous words, the breeze had carried him away from her to a place she couldn’t go, and the thought of that made that lump in her throat rise up again.

On the laptop, flash-bangs captured her attention, turning her away from the memory of him saying goodbye to her in his own way, and she forced herself to swallow that lump in her throat. Men in riot gear pushed through the streets, aiming tear gas at a crowd of people wielding weapons, some bought, some makeshift, as they pushed back against the onslaught of authority, rocks, bricks, and molotovs being hurled at the police force.

Poppy headed over to her laptop, turning up the volume on the live news stream:

“The turf war between two rivaling gangs rages on as several more fatalities are reported this evening, most concentrated in the Ares Street district, but now spilling into residential areas, claiming the lives of several people, including five children varying from ages 3 - 12.

“Narin City officials are calling for an end to the violence as the mayor has declared a state of emergency in the city. Mayor Marimoto says that she is considering calling in the national guard to restore peace in Narin City as the violence escalates in the city, claiming the lives of several of the police force, and sparking rioting, protests, and looting.

“Citizens of the city say they no longer feel safe in their homes and are calling for immediate action to stop the violence before it overtakes the city. Back to you, Julie.”

Poppy sighed, shutting off her stovetop, transferring the meat she had been cooking to a plate, and adding some rice and vegetables to the side for good measure. She hoped that wherever he was, he was okay.

***

Poppy woke to the sound of banging at her door, and she shot up out of bed, clutching her blankets to her chest. Poppy’s hands trembled as she quietly pulled the blankets back, tiptoeing into her living room to dig through her work bag for her taser.

She shrank back into her room, shutting and locking her door, listening to the banging become persistent as the person on the outside threw himself against the door over and over again until she heard the door slam open with a terrifying shatter. The front door now open, she could hear the same banging as others threw themselves against the doors to other apartments adjacent to hers as well, as screaming, yelling, and gunshots echoed throughout the complex.

Her heart nearly split her chest open as she trembled in fear, quietly backing into her closet and shut the door, the intruder in her house opening door after door, searching for her. She heard him attempt to open her bedroom door, and, seeing it was locked, heard a brief silence before the banging continued as he forced his way into her room.

She heard the footsteps outside of her closet, searching around her room, under her bed, under her desk before she heard the tell-tale sound of footsteps stop just in front of the closet door, the ominous black shadow blocking out the silvery blue light of the night sky. Slowly, the door creaked open, the blue light illuminating Poppy, who shrank back against the clothes in a panic, a tall dark shadow entering the closet as her breathing picked up going into a full on panic mode.

“Found you.” His voice was sing-songy, and a terrified Poppy completely forgot how to function, her hands fumbling with the taser, which slipped out of her hands onto the floor. She heard a dark chuckle, watching him bend down to retrieve the taser.

“Naughty little girl.” His voice mocked her, and forward he went, grabbing her, and throwing her over his shoulder as she struggled against him. He stopped for a moment, throwing her on the floor, and pulled a pistol out, aiming it at her head.

“Keep struggling, and I’ll blow your fucking head off.” He growled. Poppy went completely still. He dug into his pocket, pulling out a black beanie and shoving it down over her head, blocking out her sight. Then, he picked her back up, heading out the door with her.

Poppy closed her eyes, trying her best to calm herself down. Now that she had been caught, the best thing she could do was focus on what was happening. Memorize anything she could that could potentially help her.

She heard him heading down the stairs of her complex, listening to the sound of panic as whoever was raiding their complex was collecting others to add to their collection as well, and from the sound of things, it seemed like it was mainly women. A chorus of threats rang throughout the hallways of the complex.

“Sit the fuck down!”

“Back up!”

“Drop that, or I will shoot.”

“Put all valuables in the bag.”

“Tell your man and kids to get the fuck into the bathroom and lock the door. Do it, or I’ll blow them all to hell!”

“Where are your guns?”

This is a raid, a looting, a supply run. They’re collecting things to continue on with their cause. If they’re taking women, they’re holding hostages. Maybe some sort of police negotiation?

She heard the front gate open to her complex and knew she was outside of the apartment grounds. She felt him take a sharp right and heard a door slide open, after which, she was abruptly chucked into, what she assumed was, a van because she landed with a hard thud on a metal surface, the wind knocked completely out of her as she rolled to her side in pain.

“Take that mask off, and I’ll cut your hands off.” She heard her abductor say.

“Okay.” Poppy choked out, still recovering from the rough landing. At her acquiescence, the  
door slammed shut.

***

Poppy lost track of where they had gone after about the tenth turn. When they hauled her out of the van, she listened carefully to her surroundings:

An echo told her that she was in a larger area—a parking garage, possibly a warehouse. An electric buzzing somewhere in the distance along with the metallic clanking of machinery told her it was likely she was in an industrial area of some sort. She heard the sound of a metal door shrieking open, whoever was operating it grunting as he pushed, telling her it was rusted—possibly an older or decommissioned building. Everything else was a bit of a blur as the electric whirring drowned out most other sounds in the building she was being carried into. 

She felt herself being plopped into a metal chair, hands forced behind her back as they were tied tightly with zip ties. Ankles also tied to the legs of the chair in zip ties. The black beanie was ripped off of Poppy’s head and she squinted against the bright lights that were blaring in her face, three cameras situated in between each of the lights. Next to her, she saw four other women, their heads down, clearly drugged or simply asleep at this point. 

Four shadows entered the room behind the cameras, seemingly in a bit of a tizzy.

“What the fuck? What are we supposed to do?” She heard one of them whisper harshly.

“Calm down. We stick to the plan.” Another responded.

“But Shinoda is dead, most of the lieutenants have fled the city, cops are breathing down our necks, and Balthuman’s boys have breached the perimeter. We should get the fuck out while we can.” The first pushed back.

“Listen, asshole. I’m the de facto boss now. I was next in line for lieutenant, and I will get the rest of our boys out of here if I have to kill every goddam woman in this room.” The second yelled. The first shrank back, nodding.

“Now, you three, get the fuck on those cameras and start rolling.” She heard the second order. At his command, the three men moved toward the cameras, a red light coming on each of them. She saw the second reach up and touch his ear, saying.

“Cut into the broadcast now.”

He walked around the perimeter of the room, careful to keep to the shadows, coming around the back of the woman on the end. He pulled out a large pistol, cocking it, and placing it to the back of her head. The woman jumped, tears falling down her face in rapid succession as she sobbed in terror.

“We are members of the Ninedaggers organization, and we humbly request your full attention.” She heard the second say. “Our requests are simple: blues, you have several of our men locked up. We demand their release. Balthuman clan, you have taken several of our men and are on our fucking territory...get the fuck off of our turf and release our men. You now have fifteen minutes to comply with these requests. Fail to do that, and we will kill this woman. After that, your fifteen minutes starts over again. We will kill one woman every fifteen minutes until all of our requests are met. Allow me to demonstrate.”

At that, the second man pulled the trigger, and Poppy squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the warmth of blood spatter across her face as she felt tears stinging her eyes. She took deep breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to will herself to calm down. The woman next to the doomed woman let out a blood curdling scream, fully in panic mode. Next to Poppy, the woman next to her was crying hysterically, while the woman in the middle was silent. Poppy was fairly sure she passed out from shock.

“Now that you know we aren’t fucking around: Once these women are dead, we will move on to phase two. We have placed bombs in several places throughout the city. We will not disclose the location of these bombs, but we will then begin detonating one bomb every five minutes. Again, allow me to demonstrate.”

The room was silent, but Poppy knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had done what he had promised because he continued on:

“Hear me when I say we will burn this city to the fucking ground if you force us to. Your fifteen minutes begins...now.”

***

Tora and two other men sat in a dark sedan just outside of Ninedaggers territory, waiting for the call to go ahead. Lit cigarette in his mouth, he inhaled deep, trying to calm his nerves, exhaling out the window, tendrils of smoke curling out into the night. 

He figured that by this point, the thrill of going in for a hit would have worn off on him, but Ninedaggers was getting desperate, and desperate people tend to do stupid shit. 

Tora’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out. Ronzo’s icon flashed on his screen as an incoming call. His brows furrowed, puzzled for a moment because the boys knew better than to call anyone out on a hit. He put the phone up to his ear, not saying anything, simply listening:

“Big Bro. I’m sending you a link. If you’re in a safe place, you need to watch it right now.”

At that, Ronzo hung up, and Tora’s phone buzzed, a link popping up via text. He motioned to the three others sitting in the car, and all of them leaned over to look at his phone. He opened the link on his phone, and a video popped up:

“We are members of the Ninedaggers organization, and we humbly request your full attention.” A shadow in the video began, video zoomed in on a woman, whom the shadow man had a pistol on. Tora and his men listened to the demands of the man. “Balthuman clan, you have taken several of our men and are on our fucking territory...get the fuck off of our turf and release our men. You now have fifteen minutes to comply with these requests. Fail to do that, and we will kill this woman. After that, your fifteen minutes starts over again. We will kill one woman every fifteen minutes until all of our requests are met. Allow me to demonstrate.”

At that, the group of them watched as he pulled the trigger. The man in the drivers seat shook his head at that, murmuring,

“Sick bastard.”

Tora watched as the camera panned out, revealing the woman next to the doomed woman, who was screaming and trembling violently, to the third woman, who was passed out, to the fourth woman who was crying hysterically, finally settling in the fifth woman, who sat taking deep breaths, before opening her eyes and calmly staring at the camera.

Tora jumped in his seat, sitting forward and zooming in on the screen and staring at her face, which was splattered with the blood of the first woman. He flicked his cigarette out the window, jaw locked, body beginning to tremble in absolute rage.

“You alright, big bro?” He heard one of the men ask uncertainly.

“No.” He growled. “I’m not fucking okay. We are going in right the fuck now.”

“But Vincent said—“

“I don’t give a fuck what Vincent said. Ya don’t wanna go, get the fuck out of the car.”

The crew in the car remained silent for a moment, and the driver nodded, putting the car in drive.

****

“Police on the line.” Poppy heard the third shadow say. “They wanna negotiate.”

“We aren’t fucking negotiating. The terms are simple. Tell them they have five fucking minutes before—“

Poppy heard a loud pop emit from somewhere deeper inside the warehouse before she and everyone else in the room were plunged into complete darkness. A few of the women began shrieking, while the second man barked orders at the others. She saw cell phone lights coming on, flashing around the room as the shouting began. Outside the door of the room she was in, she heard several men shouting, the shrieking of metal doors being opened and shut the unsettling aria of the chaos that was about to begin.

Somewhere in the darkness, a loud popping sound began—gunfire—single shots. She wasn’t sure if the sound was inside or outside of the room, but she knew by the panicked sound of running feet and the clicking of weapons that whomever had come for them had them terrified.

Poppy took this opportunity to knock herself over, landing hard on the ground, knowing full well that there was a good possibility of getting caught in the crossfire. 

For a moment, the warehouse went silent, heavy breathing bouncing off of the walls, mixed with the whimper of the woman next to her. 

A loud bang, followed by a whizzing sound emitted through the room, as Poppy heard the sickening crunch and squish of a bullet entering a body, followed by the thud of said body hitting the ground.

“Sniper!” Someone shrieked in the darkness, and she heard the sound of several people hitting the ground at the same time, getting low and attempting to crawl to shelter. Somewhere in the thick darkness of the warehouse, she heard the click of the rifle reloading before hearing the loud bang and whiz of a second shot fired off, followed by the same sickening crunch and squish of a successful shot.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck.” She heard one of the men whimpering in the corner. 

Outside of the room, she heard the brief commotion of resistance followed by the echoes of a staccato of gunfire from a semi-automatic weapon before the warehouse fell silent again.

She heard the gentle click of the sniper rifle again, a brief silence, and then a roaring bang echo throughout the warehouse. The whizzing of a bullet passing just over her head and entering into a body close to her nearly made Poppy pass out from fear. She felt the warm, thick spreading of blood soaking into her hair and clothes, the sickly smell of copper filling the air around her as she lifted her face up, trying to stay quiet but avoid a blood bath.

A final click of the sniper rifle sounded throughout the warehouse, and she heard the last man jump to his feet, followed by the sound of running. For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of his running feet, and she thought maybe they were going to let him go, but the bang of the rifle blast and the sound of a body thudding to the ground dashed that theory quickly.

“Check!” She heard a voice shout. The room remained silent for a moment as she heard the patter of feet and the gentle clicking of swaying weapons moving throughout the warehouse.

“Clear!” She heard one say, followed by a chorus of three others shouting “Clear!”

“Torches on.” She heard a command, and four flashlights flicked on in the darkness, bright beams of light flickering across the darkness, assessing the room.

“Check the women. Leave the dead. Take the survivors.” The commander ordered.

She watched the flashlight beams move toward the group of women, flashing over the first, who was long dead, the second and third, who seemed to have been caught in the crossfire and were bleeding out, before the light flashed in her face, blinding her temporarily.

She felt someone free her hands and feet as she was lifted up off of the ground and cradled in a pair of strong arms. 

“Double check that the rooms are clear. Let’s head out.” She heard a voice say. They moved swiftly through the room as the door to the outside shrieked open again. 

“Hold it!” The shrieking door stopped momentarily. “Cover their faces. They’ve seen enough death.” 

She heard the sound of fabric moving against itself before she felt that fabric rest gently over her eyes, blocking out her vision entirely before the door resumed opening.

“You two, take the sedan.” She heard a voice order. “The two of us will go in the SUV. When we get there, put the women in separate rooms. We need to debrief them before we can let them go.”

***

Poppy was placed down gently in a room on another metal chair. The blindfold was lifted off of her eyes and she squinted against the unwelcome fluorescent lighting. She glanced over at the movement in the corner of her eye, seeing a shorter man in a suit and a ski mask standing next to her holding a gun.

In front of her was a table and two chairs. The walls were bare on all four sides with the exception of the door leading into the room. The incessant buzzing of a fluorescent light nearly drove her crazy.

The door opened, and another man in a ski mask entered, this one much taller and more filled out than the one with the gun. The shorter of the two turned, nodded to the taller man, and exited the room. 

The taller man headed to the door, locked it, and turned back toward Poppy. She felt an immediate sense of panic overwhelm her as he approached her. She stood quickly, feeling a rush of dizziness overwhelm her as she fell over the back of the chair, scrambling backward toward the corner, where she tucked her knees up, staring at her captor.

The tall man stopped for a moment. He reached up, taking a hold of the ski mask, and pulled it off, revealing his face:

Long, dark, messy hair, made even worse by a ski mask, fell down his shoulders wildly. Beautiful golden eyes stared down at her both in relief and concern, his jaw set in worry.

Poppy let out a sob of relief, her eyes filling with tears as she scrambled to get up off of the ground, and threw herself into his arms. He stumbled backward, falling to the ground and wrapping his arms around her as she unleashed a hurricane of tears that had built up from a long night of terror and anxiety.

“It’s you.” Was all she could manage to choke out in the middle of the downpour of tears. He held her tighter, feeling her shiver from the shock of the situation and the relief of seeing him again.

“You’re safe now.” He told her. She looked up at him, those doe eyes staring at him in relief as he took a handkerchief out of his pocket and began rubbing at the dried blood on her face.

For a moment, he had a brief flashback of the warehouse. He looked through the night vision scope of the sniper rifle, seeing a man crawling toward Poppy on the ground, intending to use her as a shield from the gunfire. He hadn’t wasted any time before he exhaled and fired a clean shot straight between the eyes. 

He had seen Poppy flinch as the drop of the bullet passed over her head and he exhaled in relief that he wouldn’t have to try to shoot around her. Even though he was confident in his marksmanship skills, he didn’t like the idea of having to risk her life in any way.

“Y—you were there, weren’t you?” Poppy stammered, still shaking. Tora said nothing for a moment, and simply nodded as an answer to her question.

“You—you killed those men?” She pressed, clearly terrified, and as much as it broke his heart to see her afraid of him, he nodded. He waited for her to run away screaming or back into a corner away from him. He thought she might even pass out judging by the look on her face.

“Bobby—I would never—“

But he didn’t get a chance to finish because Poppy grabbed his tie, yanking him forward and crushed her lips against his. At first, his eyes were wide open in shock because for the second time, she went in for the kill with absolutely no warning whatsoever. 

Her lips moved against his with a fervency, and he found himself absolutely overcome by the heat and urgency of her kiss. His hands tangled in her hair, and he yanked her head back, tongue tracing heated circles up her neck, feeling her quickening pulse, thankful that she was still alive.

Poppy responded with a gasping breath at the sensation of his free hand moving down the side of her body, and she took his chin gently with her hand, guiding his lips back to hers. His hands rested on her upper thighs, yanking her forward against his body, her hands on his face, deepening the kiss as his tongue explored her mouth freely, his hands moving under her shirt and up her back, reveling in goosebumps he caused by running his fingertips over her back.

It was Tora who broke the kiss, putting his forehead to hers, both trying to catch their breath. He reached up, fingers grazing her cheek, planting a chaste kiss on her lips and then another.

“Thank you.” She whispered, kissing his right cheek.

“Thank you.” She whispered again, kissing his left cheek.

“Thank you.” She whispered a final time, kissing him full on the lips again, and much to his chagrin, his face flushed a bright red.

“Let’s get you out of here.” He told her.

“What about the debrief?” Poppy asked.

“Let me worry about that.” Tora smiled.

***  
“Holy shit.” Tora examined Poppy’s kicked in door, taking in the damage that had been done to her apartment and the other apartments. He knew from the start that this place was a bad place for Poppy to stay, but damn if this didn’t prove just how close to the Ares Street conflict she actually was.

Poppy nodded, timidly stepping into her apartment, flipping on the light, noting that most of her valuables were gone, including her laptop. He walked with her to her bedroom, noting that door had been kicked in as well, and he shook his head.

“Let me get someone on this.” Tora told her, and he whipped out his phone, texting someone, before putting his phone away. “Why don’t ya go get yaself cleaned up.”

“A—are you going to leave?” Poppy stammered, and he could tell she was afraid to be alone.

“Nah. I’ll be here when ya get done.” He told her. “Don’t get scared if ya hear banging. I’m gonna try to get this door fixed.” 

***

The last of the pink tinted water swirled down the drain and Poppy sighed in relief as she closed her eyes, feeling as though she was washing the memory of tonight off of her body. She turned the shower off and got dressed, taking note of her new bedroom door as she collapsed into bed, exhausted.

She heard a gentle knock on the doorframe, and she looked over to her bedroom door, seeing Tora leaning against the doorframe.

“Feelin’ any better?” His lips curved up into a smile.

“A little.” Her voice was soft, timid.

“Can I do somethin’ to help?” He asked. Poppy blushed, looking over at him, and told him,

“I don’t want to sleep alone.”

He paused for a moment, then pushed himself off of the doorframe, slipping off his shoes and crawling into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her tiny body. They lay for a moment in silence before Poppy asked,

“After tonight...will I see you again?”

She felt her heart rate pick up because there was nothing else she wanted or needed more at this point. He looked down at her,

“Ya sure ya wanna see me again? Ya just saw me murder nearly a dozen people.”

She stared up at him, and he continued,

“This is what I do. Are ya really sure this is what ya want in ya life?”

Poppy thought for a moment and sighed,

“I’m sure.”

“Then, hell yeah. I’ll come around.” He grinned, kissing the top of her head. “Besides, the turf war is over.”

“Meaning?” Poppy pressed.

“Meaning you’ll be seeing a lot more of this big, handsome thug a lot more.” His smile was contagious and Poppy couldn’t help but smile too. “Besides, you were keeping two of my most important things with ya. Didn’t think I’d just let ya have ‘em did ya?”

“Oh, you mean these?” Poppy reached inside of her shirt, pulling out the black bracelet, the silver ring looped through it. The bracelet had been too big to fit around her wrist, and had wrapped around it nearly four times, so she decided to go ahead and just make it a necklace.

“Ya mean this whole time, those have been touching ya ti—“ he started to make a squeezing motion with his hand, and Poppy leaned back, horrified.

“Perv!” She smacked his arm, and he pffed merrily.

“Well, now I definitely want ‘em back.” He grinned.

“You can have them back, of course, but you know the rules.” Poppy looked him dead in the eye, giving him the most serious expression she could muster up, but failing spectacularly when she couldn’t stop her lips from twitching.

“Alright, smartass.” He grinned. “So what is it this time that ya want, ya thug?”

Poppy pointed to her right cheek, innocently waiting.

“Ya think ya can get away with anything just cos ya good lookin.” He told her gently, and Poppy’s heart swelled about ten sizes, sure she was the only one who remembered their first real kiss in full detail.

“Sounds about right.” Poppy’s voice was breathless as she met his eyes, every trace of humor disappearing from them. “Hurry up before—“

His eyes were trained on her lips, hyper focused on them.

“Before—“ she sighed.

“Before what?” He teased, leaning down slowly, mouth just above her own.

“Before I—change my mind.” She smiled. He looked into her eyes, hand on her face, tracing her cheek, her breath shaking. His fingers ran through her hair, fingertips gently tracing her lips.

“Fair enough.” He told her, and finally, mercifully, he lowered his lips onto hers for a deep kiss.


	3. One Drunken Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a drunk dialing/texting prompt...buuuuuutttt it went a loosely attached direction.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Screw him, am I right?” Poppy slurred, about eight shots deep into her night out with Erdene, who had encouraged her to let loose.

“I’m tired of seeing you moping around the office.” She had commented to Poppy, who spent most of her time buried in her work to avoid thinking about Tora. 

“I’m sure you wish you did.” Erdene grumbled, putting her head on her hand as she stared at Poppy, who was slamming back her ninth shot of the night.

“W—what did you say?” Poppy grumbled, jerking her body sideways to swirl in her bar seat and face Erdene, but spinning completely in the opposite direction. Erdene grabbed Poppy by the shoulders, gently swirling her back around to face her.

“Poppy, this has to stop.” Erdene squeezed Poppy’s cheeks with her thumb and forefinger to get Poppy to look at her. Poppy’s lids were drooping, clearly wasted beyond return at this point, and Erdene shook her head.

“You’re cut off.” Erdene sighed. Poppy shot out of her chair indignantly, stumbling off to one side, before leaning back toward the bar to steady herself. She poked Erdene in the nose and slurred,

“You can’t tell me how to live my life!”

Erdene bit back a smile at her because she looked so cute when she was angry, and this seemed to anger Poppy even more.

“You know what, Erdene!” Poppy growled, bowing up at Erdene, who stood up humorously, towering over Poppy and responding,

“What, Poppy?”

“I—am going pee!” Poppy snarled, turning and marching herself straight to the bathroom. Erdene laughed, shaking her head as Poppy wobbled her way to the bathroom angrily, throwing open the door and marching into the men’s restroom, before Erdene saw her march right back out, red faced, and into the women’s restroom.

“Is she okay?” She heard the bartender ask, and she glanced up, seeing his eyes glancing over in her direction, his wavy reddish brown hair and little soul patch of a beard reminding her of Shaggy from Scooby Doo.

“Yeah,” she squinted at his name tag, “Gyu. She’s fine. Just a little wound up over a boy.”

Gyu nodded cautiously, still looking in the direction of where Poppy disappeared, before shrugging and resuming his bar tasks.

Erdene swiveled back around to the bar, her eyes drifting over to Poppy’s purse, her cell phone hanging precariously within full reach of her prying hands. She contemplated her next move for less than five seconds before grabbing Poppy’s phone.

She cackled to herself, finding Julri’s number still in Poppy’s phone and opening the text messaging app:

Me: Hey there, needle dick.

Julri: Poppy? What the hell?

Erdene laughed even harder at that response.

Me: Remember that bar we used to come to on date nights?

Julri: Yeah. I remember.

Me: I’m here celebrating our breakup! You should come.

Julri: Why would I want to come celebrate our breakup?

Me: Why not?

Erdene waited for a moment, not getting a response and then smiled deviously to herself. She searched through Poppy’s phone for Tora’s phone number and sent his contact information to herself.

“Tonight is going to be fun.” She grinned, saving Tora’s contact information and slipping Poppy’s phone back into her purse.

*****

“Poppy?”

That voice. 

That stupid, idiotic, nasally, high-pitched voice. Poppy turned around and there he was in all of his needle dick glory.

“What—the heck?” Was all Poppy could muster at seeing his face. A lump in her throat rose for a second, and she felt tears stinging her eyes when she heard a very distinct

Click.

She looked over at Erdene, who had her phone up and took yet another photo of Poppy, before she smiled, shaking her head and laughing,

“Oh. This is too perfect.”

Poppy heard her texting a few things before she heard the distinct sound of a text message being sent. She set her phone down, her face a smug grin as she leaned back against the bar.

“You—you texted me.” Julri stammered, shoving his hands uncomfortably in his pockets and shuffling his feet back and forth.

“I—did?” Poppy squeaked, wiping away a tear.

“Yeah. You said you were celebrating our breakup and that I should come down and celebrate too.” Julri shrugged. Poppy was highly confused. She turned her back away from him and toward Gyu, who had perked up to what was going on in front of him. 

“Um. More, please.” Poppy politely yelled over the din of the crowd. Gyu nodded, eyeing Julri, who had moved next to Poppy and was leaning against the bar, inching his way closer to Poppy. Gyu poured a quick shot, sliding it to Poppy, who took it, wincing at the burn of the straight whiskey in the shot glass.

“Poppy, can we please talk?” Julri pressed, running his fingers down her arm. Poppy squeezed her eyes shut at that contact, trying to will the simultaneous feeling of pain and disgust away.

“I have nothing to say to you.” She told him.

“Okay, maybe you don’t, but if you’d just—“ Poppy put her hand up to stop him. Her phone was lighting up incessantly in front of her, buzzing on the bar and had been nonstop for the last five minutes. She looked down at the screen and audibly gulped: she had missed nearly twelve calls from Tora. She jumped as the phone started ringing again, hesitantly putting the phone up to her ear:

“Where are ya?” She heard him snarl, the sound of air wishing through an open car window in the background.

“Vice.” She squeaked.

“Who are you talking to? This is important!” Julri whined next to her. On the line, she heard the car accelerate. 

“Tell him he has three minutes to get out the front door.” Tora growled, and the line went dead. Poppy’s eyes widened, and she whirled quickly toward Julri, pushing him and shrieking,

“You need to go. Right now. You need to leave.”

Erdene was still leaning back against the bar, her mouth curled up into a full on smile as she munched on a pineapple that came with her drink, enjoying the show tremendously.

Julri caught Poppy’s wrists, pulling him toward her, and saying,

“No! I’m not leaving! I’m trying to tell you that I’m still in love with you!”

“Yeah, that’s really great. Uh huh. But I really really need you to get out right now!” Poppy tried pulling free from his grip, but he held on more tightly, pulling her closer to him,

“I was an idiot! You were perfect for me, and I blew it. Please give me a second chance? Please?” 

“I’ll give ya a second chance.” That deep voice boomed, and both Poppy and Julri jumped at the sound of it. Poppy’s eyes widened in terror, and Julri stood like an idiot holding Poppy’s wrists.

“You have five seconds to let go of her and get the fuck out of this bar before I break my foot off in ya ass.” Tora growled. Julri’s eyes narrowed at him.

“You think you’re so big and tough, but I take MMA. I could definitely take you on. Try me.” Julri smirked, puffing his chest out like a tiny Superman.

“Oh, please don’t say that.” Poppy pleaded to Julri. “Just leave if you want to live.”

“Yeah, needle dick. Happy trails.” Erdene cackled from the bar, popping a cherry into her mouth as Gyu looked at her in disgust. Julri released Poppy, and turned to leave before whirling around and throwing a sucker punch at Tora, which he easily blocked, kicking Julri’s legs out from under him, causing him to tumble backward, hitting his head and taking a hard fall to the ground.

“Get a refund from ya MMA place. They didn’t teach ya shit.” Tora snorted. Julri scrambled back up and swung at Tora again, who deftly dodged the blow. He pulled Julri’s hood up over his head, and picked him up by his hood, somewhat choking him, escorting him out of the bar and tossing him onto the street. The bouncer looked at Tora, and Tora raised his eyebrows back before turning and going back into Vice.

Poppy had taken another two “oh shit” shots for a grand total of eleven shots by the time Tora walked back in, and she was currently trying to pretend to be sober in her bar seat.

Like a shadow, Tora slid into the bar seat beside her. Dressed in his black suit, it was clear that he had just come from a work function. Poppy was actively trying to avoid eye contact with Tora, who curiously looked over in her direction before saying,

“Whiskey on the rocks.”

Gyu nodded, turning to prepare his drink. Tora turned his attention back to Poppy, leaning forward, forearms on the bar.

“Ya gonna pretend I’m not here all night?” Tora asked. Poppy stiffly turned her body, looking over at him with a putrid glance.

“Ah fuck. She’s pissed.” Tora thought. 

“Yeah, I might do that. Especially since you pretended I didn’t exist for the last six months.” Poppy spat at him, harshly poking his chest with her forefinger, much to Tora’s amusement. Tora’s mouth curved up into a smirk.

“Why am I so bitter?” Poppy wondered to herself. “I barely knew the man.”

Poppy crossed her arms like a petulant four year old, then shot out of her chair, attempting to stand, but found the world tipping sideways like she was on a ship as she stumbled to keep up with the balance of the world. Tora caught her, practically picking her up and setting her upright, while Poppy swatted him away with both hands like she was swatting a pesky little bee out of the way.

“No. No! You don’t touch me! I can only touch myself!” She slurred at him, poking him in the chest again. 

“‘S that so?” Tora pffted at that statement, and Poppy, upon realizing what she had just said, flushed beet red, threw her hands down at her side indignantly and growled,

“PERVERT!”

At which time, both Tora and Erdene roared with laughter at her expense, and off she marched to the dance floor to go dance with herself.

Tora glanced over at Erdene, who grinned at him, waving her phone humorously.

“So. You’re the one who texted me that she was being harassed by her ex.” Tora crossed his arms, looking at her suspiciously.

“I am indeed. I’m Erdene, Poppy’s coworker and friend.” She stuck her hand out, and Tora shook it.

“How did ya get my number?” He pressed. Erdene shrugged,

“Black magic.”

Tora wryly smiled at that, before turning toward the dance floor to look for Poppy.

“Uh.” Tora stammered. “Where did she go?”

“Ah shit.” Erdene shot out of her chair, grabbing Poppy’s purse, slamming payment and tip on the bar top and scurrying to go check the bathroom. “She’s—Uh—a bit of a runner when she gets drunk.”

Tora’s phone began vibrating in his pocket, and he picked it up, seeing a number he didn’t recognize.

“Oh heyyyy, Casper.” Poppy slurred.

“Where the hell are ya?” Tora barked into the phone, listening in the background and hearing the sounds of the city streets in the background.

“I’m around. I borrowed this nice guy’s phone since I left mine at the bar. He said he would drive me home. Isn’t that so nice of him?” Poppy sounded so relieved. Tora’s ears strained to hear anything that would help him locate her, when in the background he heard someone yell,

“Two dollar domestics all night long at Golden Cat!”

Immediately, he hung up the phone, paid Gyu, and rushed out the door into the Saturday night crowd. The air was warm, thick with the summer heat and the heat of hundreds of bodies pressed together on the streets, laughter, loud talking, and singing the soundtrack of the Narin City night scene.

He pressed his way through the crowd, searching for her, shoving anyone he needed to to advance toward Golden Cat, and that’s when he saw her:

She was holding on to that fuck that he kicked out of the bar before—Julri? And he was helping her into his shitty little red junker. He watched that little fuck adjust himself as he closed Poppy’s door, a disgusting smirk plastered across his face. 

Tora took off at a dead sprint, crossing the street just as Julri was coming around to the drivers side of the car, viciously spearing him into his car, Julri’s head bouncing off the window like a basketball.

“I thought I told ya to get the fuck out of here.” Tora snarled, aiming a ferocious right hook to the side of his face.

“I gave ya a chance to go home and avoid this.” Tora told him. “But ya brought it on yaself.”

Tora threw him on the ground as the night crowd backed away from the slaughter, Julri scrambling toward anyone who would help him, whimpering as he crawled on his hands and knees away from Tora, while everyone else moved away to avoid his wrath.

Tora aimed a kick to the ribs and another to the face before he picked Julri up by his shirt, bringing him to his eye level.

“I’m gonna make it crystal clear for ya.” He growled. “Ya don’t look at her. Ya don’t talk to her. Ya don’t text her or reach out to her. Ya get the fuck out of her life. And if I find out you’ve been messin with her again, next time, I’ll fuckin kill ya.”

Julri was crying at this point, dangling off the ground at the mercy of Tora, who released him with an unceremonious plop to the ground, and he scrambled out of the way, running in the opposite direction hysterically.

Tora sighed, heading to the passenger door and opening it. Poppy swayed back and forth in her seat. He squatted down in front of her, and she looked over at him with a lazy grin, before her smile turned into an adamant scowl.

“Come on, Bobby. Let me take ya home.” Tora smiled at her.

“No. Go away.” Poppy pouted, crossing her arms. Tora looked around at the crowd, a few people still watching him as he spoke to Poppy.

“Ya can come with me the easy way or the hard way, but either way, I’m the one that’s gonna be driving ya home.” Tora shrugged. Poppy turned toward him and stuck her tongue out at him, at which point, Tora took her out of the car and deposited her over his shoulder, holding her skirt down so that no one could see what was beneath it, although he was tempted to look.

“Put me down, you brute!” Poppy snarled. He rolled his eyes, ignoring her childish insults and made his way back to his car, depositing her in the back seat of the car and getting into the drivers seat. He adjusted the mirror to look at Poppy, who was lying on her back, arms crossed again, jaw set in indignance. He shook his head, knowing it was going to be a long drive back to her place and off they went. 

“Why were ya drinking so much tonight, Bobby?” Tora asked her, nearly eight minutes of silence into the drive, glancing up at the mirror and then back at the road.

“Because of you.” Poppy slurred. Tora raised his eyebrows at her forwardness. She sat up on her elbows, looking over at Tora, and saying,

“Where did you go, Tora? You’ve been gone for six months! You didn’t text. You didn’t come by. Nothing. You just disappeared.”

Her eyes were starting to well up with tears.

“And I waited and waited, hoping you’d come around, and you never did.” Her lip started to tremble and she looked up at him with those bright doe eyes awash with tears.

“Ah, shit. Bobby, don’t cry.” He mumbled, hating that there were any tears in her eyes in the first place because of him. And at that, she fell completely apart, a blubbering mess. He sighed, pulling the car over and putting it in park. Then, he got out of the car, opening the back door and leaning down to look at her.

“Mind if I sit back here with ya for a minute?” He asked her. Her lower lip was trembling, and she shook her head, scooting over to give him some room. He slid into the back seat, closing the door.

“Listen, Bobby,” Tora sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I told ya there were things about me I couldn’t tell ya. And it was those things that kept me away from ya.”

She was still sniffling next to him, but he could tell she was listening...and still very, very drunk by the way she continued to sway back and forth, her eyes dropping just a bit.

“The last thing I wanted was for you to be involved with me.” He told her, and she looked down at her hands. “But I just kept finding any excuse I could to see ya because I couldn’t stay away.”

He reached out to her, taking her hand, looking at it in his own hand before closing his fingers over hers.

“Ya just—do something to me.” He told her. She reached up with her right hand, fidgeting with her necklace, and it was only after doing a double take that he realized she was wearing his ring and bracelet around her neck.

“Ya kept it safe?” He smiled at her, and she looked over at him, sniffling and nodding.

“Guess I won’t have to beat ya ass after all.” He grinned, and she laughed a little through her tears. Seeing her smile like that, laugh because of something he said made his heart swell. It was like he wanted laugh and cry all at the same time. What was that? What emotion was he feeling?

“I—I missed you.” She smiled, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her cardigan. “I missed you a lot.”

He nodded at that, realizing he was still holding her hand, acutely aware that at some point, she had moved herself closer to him, and her thigh was touching his leg.

“I’m sorry.” He told her. “With my job, there are—things happening right now that I can’t explain. But they’re dangerous.”

“You don’t have to explain.” She told him, and she dropped her head onto his shoulder, leaning on him. “I just want to know that you’ll come back.”

He glanced down at her, the scent of her perfume, a sweet floral scent gracing his nose.

“Bobby, I can’t promise ya that.” He told her, closing his eyes. She nodded, taking her head off of his shoulder and scooting back over, looking out the window. Why did he always fuck everything up? Every good thing in his life, he has reduced to ashes, and now he was doing it with her.

“I—“

“Can you please just take me home?” Her voice was little more than a whisper as she leaned away from him, hand on her chin, looking out the window away from him. She had effectively shut herself down and shut him out in the process. 

Tora climbed out of the car, sliding into the drivers seat. He looked back at her, seeing her wipe away a tear indignantly, and he drove her the rest of the way home.

****

Tora pulled up outside the gate to her complex, and Poppy remained still inside of his car. Despite the amount of alcohol she had, the sober feeling that she felt was one she couldn’t quite shake.

“Grow up, Poppy.” She told herself. “He didn’t make you any promises. He told you he was leaving. You knew. You’re lucky he’s even here tonight.” 

He came around the back side of the car, opening the door, and she snapped out of her thoughts, sliding out of the car.

“Don’t be like that. Don’t be a coward.” She told herself. 

“Thanks for bringing me home.” She told him, trying to make her smile as genuine as possible, but he could see that her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

“Anytime.” He shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Goodnight, Tora.” She said, turning away from him, and he couldn’t stand it. He hated seeing her walk away from him. In his pockets, he squeezed her hair tie, closed his eyes and called out,

“Poppy.”

She stopped, her hand on the gate. When he said her name, that was as far as he had gotten with his plan. He rocked back and forth on his heels, fidgeting with her hair tie, trying to figure out what to do. 

She turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his, and the minute he saw her face, he couldn’t take it anymore. He crossed the sidewalk in three large strides, pulled her by her waist, and angled his lips onto hers, the heat of a second kiss, one they had both been aching for for so long forging the two of them together in a tangle of fingers, lips, tongues, and bodies.

She pulled back, and said,

“We have to stop.”

Before pressing her lips to his again. He pulled her body to his, fingers trailing down her back, her hands running through his hair. She wanted to say,

“Let’s stop now.”

In fact, she meant to say it, but when she opened her mouth, the only words that tumbled off of her lips were,

“Come upstairs with me.”

And just like her, he had every intention of saying,

“Lets just call it a night, Bobby.”

Just like her, that’s exactly what he meant, but when he opened his mouth, all that came out was,

“After you.”

And he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. His fingers grabbed for hers, reached for her body, his body pressing against hers as she opened the gate, whirling on him again to catch his lips, the two of them stumbling and slamming into the gate.

“Ow.” She giggled against his lips, and she could feel his smile on hers. Her eyes widened as he heaved her body up effortlessly onto his, carrying her up the stairs, slamming her into her apartment door.

“I didn’t bring the key.” She breathed between kisses.

“No need.” He set her down, dug through his pocket and produced a tool. Kneeling down in front of her, he worked on the lock of her door for a few moments before the door swung open effortlessly. He stood up and turned to face Poppy who was looking at him in shock, mouth agape.

“What?” He shifted uncomfortably.

“Ya thug is showing, dickwad.” He chastised himself inwardly.

“That was—awesome!” She grinned, and he beamed before her, inwardly breathing a sigh of relief that he still hadn’t scared her off. In she walked in front of him, and he quietly shut the door, before reaching out, snatching her wrist and pulling her into him, lips coming down onto hers again as he lifted her up, taking her to her bedroom and putting her down on the bed.

Poppy was going out of her mind, unsure of what she was thinking and feeling, just knowing she needed more—this hunger that she couldn’t quite feed. Her hands started trembling, and she reached up to his jacket, pushing it over his shoulders. He broke the kiss from her long enough to pull his jacket and tie off as she pulled off her cardigan.

He returned to her, hands on her face, pulling her closer to him, her shaky hands working slowly at the buttons on his shirt and something in Tora woke up, realizing how nervous she was. He stopped her hands, and looked into her eyes, golden eyes burning into her wide brown eyes,

“We don’t need to do this.”

He kissed her forehead, and she sighed in relief, nodding. He grinned softly, moving to get off the bed, and she reached out, tugging on his shirt.

“I—I want you to s—stay.” She stammered, her face burning a beet red. “Please?”

He knew it would be a bad idea to stay with her. It would make leaving that much harder; walking away from her that much harder; telling her no that much harder; getting out of her life...

“Ya can’t do that.” He told himself. “It’s too late.”

No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t stay away from her anymore, and he knew it was selfish and dangerous, but she was a piece of his heart now. He knew that if he tried to leave—really leave again, it would tear him in two.

“Okay.” He said aloud, removing his shoes. He looked over at her and she was clutching the blanket to her body nervously.

“I—I’m going to get changed.” She told him, and she scrambled off the bed and into the bathroom. He shook his head, chuckling to himself. She was just so damned cute, and he enjoyed making her nervous and flustered the way he did. He liked watching her sweet little face go red when he mentioned or did something sexual and she didn’t know how to respond.

He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, taking it off and putting it with his jacket, leaning back against the headboard, closing his eyes and taking in where he was. He was in her room. She wanted him. She asked him to stay. She kissed him back. And he...he was in heaven. 

She door slowly opened and she peeked her head out of the bathroom. Seeing him shirtless in bed in front of her, she brought her hands up to her eyes, covering them.

“Why did you take your shirt off?” Her flustered voice croaked. He grinned at that, pushing himself off the bed and standing in front of her. Gently, he took her hands, placing them on his chest.

“It’s just a body, Bobby.” He told her. She looked at her hands in wonder, his hands trailing down her sides, stopping on her waist. She moved her hands slowly across his chest, feeling him, understanding his body, and she felt a shiver of pleasure run through her body. 

It took every ounce of self control in Tora’s body not to grab her, throw her on the bed, rip off those cute fucking orange shorts, and drive himself into her, but instead he backed up onto the bed, lying down, and pulling her down to lie next to him. She moved her hands down his chest, across his stomach, fingers tracing over the beautiful ripples that were his well sculpted abs.

Tora was careful to be a gentleman with her, knowing the last thing he wanted to do was scare her, forcing her to take two steps back where she would barely let him hug her, much less kiss her. Suddenly, she sat up and put her hands on his chest, laying her chin down, looking up into his eyes.

“What if I asked you to promise me that if you can, you’ll come back to me?” She gently asked. “Could you do that?”

“Is that really what ya want?” He asked her, arching an eyebrow. “I mean really. Because that means it could be days or weeks. It might mean ya might not hear from me and then suddenly I’ll just reappear.”

“I spend all my time looking for you even when you tell me you’re not coming back.” Poppy told him. “I always hope I’ll run into you in the street or at a bar. I’m already living this life. And at least, if you wanted this too, I could be okay knowing that I would see you again; knowing you’d try to make your way back to me.”

Tora looked down at this beautiful angel in front of him, wondering how in the world he could do that to her or how he could even consider making her wait for him. He knew she deserved better than what he could give her or be for her. But then again, he knew that if it came down to it, he couldn’t stand to see her with another man, but would he be selfish enough to keep her for himself not knowing what that could mean for her?

“Yeah.” He told her. “I do want that.”

And the moment her face lit up, he was lost again. Anything he could do to make her smile at him like that, he would do it in a heartbeat.

“Okay. Then let’s do it.” She beamed, pulling herself up to him, and kissing him, before laying down and promptly passing out, lips parted, a little snore coming out of her mouth. 

He looked down at her, shocked she had passed out like that so quickly. He rolled over on his side, looking at her face, fingers tracing over her cheek and mouth.

“Yeah.” He thought, his mouth curving into a smile, his fingers running through her hair. The entire night he had been wondering if it was a good idea to come and see her, to be her knight in shining armor and ward off that prick of an ex-boyfriend. He pressed his lips to her forehead and she snuggled closer to him, sighing deeply, her arm flinging itself over his waist to pull him closer.

“I’d do it again.”


	4. The Chase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this is loosely based on the #CCC prompt for this week because...I don’t do a good job at staying completely on topic. 😫
> 
> Prompt: B is injured significantly. A has to help tend to their wounds.

Poppy’s heart leapt up into her throat when she saw the red sports car pull up outside of the gate to her apartment complex.

“Okay, Poppy. Calm down. It’s just dinner. He agreed to dinner.” She breathed through her nervousness. Dinner was kind of a big deal especially after the fiasco between the two of them (and Cordy for that matter) at Quincey’s behest just a few nights before. Poppy wasn’t even sure if having dinner with him right now was the best idea, but airing their grievances was really the only way either of them (or at least Poppy) would be able to move past the humiliation at Gudruns.

Poppy adjusted her shoulder bag, fidgeting with the strap on it and pulled at her deep green shift dress. She wasn’t exactly sure where they were eating, and now she worried that she had overdressed. Her cell phone dinged in her purse and she pulled it out, Tora telling her what she already knew,

“I’m out front.”

She glanced up, seeing him get out of his car, black suit, clean pressed white shirt, open at the top; he leaned against the car. Looking down at his cell phone, seemingly waiting for her response. She saw him shift nervously, fidgeting with something in his pocket.

Poppy pushed the gate open, and soft shriek of the metal drawing Tora’s attention to her. She smiled and put her hand up in a gesture to say hello. The corner of his mouth turned up into a smile and he shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, saying,

“‘S good to see ya, Poppy.”

He headed around the side of his car and opened the passenger’s door for her.

“I’m glad you dressed up. I was worried I might be overdressed.” Poppy giggled nervously.

“Nah. Ya always look nice.” He grumbled, not used to giving compliments. “When I asked ya out for dinner, ‘course I’m gonna take ya out somewhere nice.”

Poppy blushed, sliding into the passenger seat, knees pressed together, black sandals lifting up and turning her legs into the car as he shut the door.

When Tora got into the car, Poppy turned toward him and asked,

“So. Where we going?”

“If I told ya,” Tora looked over at her, that corner of his lip curving up into a smile as he put the car into drive, “I’d have to kill ya.”

Poppy’s eyes widened a fraction, her mind racing back to his statement at dinner the other night,

“I’m in the mafia.”

She froze, a nervous, squeaky laugh escaping her lips, her fingers gripping her clutch under her arm.

“Yeah, sorry. Bad joke.” Tora cleared his throat. “But it is a surprise.”

Poppy relaxed a little, leaning back against the seat, taking in the twinkling lights of Narin City over the river, and then glancing down at the radio. Tora looked down at her out of the corner of his eye, and returning his eyes to the road, he said,

“Wanna listen to the radio?”

Poppy punched the power button, the blue light on the radio coming to life, blasting The opening notes of Breaking Benjamin’s “Give Me a Sign.”

They raced through the streets of Narin City, the orange street lights passing by like a blur and Tora glanced into his rear view mirror to see if it was safe to change lanes, and that’s when he noticed a black BMW racing along behind him, keeping pace with him.

Not thinking anything of it, he switched lanes, noticing the black BMW pulling into the lane behind him as well. His brow furrowed, the street light ahead changing from green to red as he pulled to a stop, the BMW coasting to a gentle stop just behind him.

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid.” He thought to himself. He glanced over at Poppy to see if she had noticed anything yet, but she seemed perfectly oblivious, simply staring out the window. He caught a glimpse of the shadows of people in the car, two in the front, two in the back.

Tora looked both ways and turned right, and seeing that BMW slowly slide into view behind him, he took a left onto the next street, the BMW following.

“Shit.” He mumbled to himself. Poppy looked over at Tora, seeing his body tensed up.

“What’s wrong?” Poppy felt immediately on alert, watching his hand rest on the stick shift. Tora looked up into the rear view mirror again, seeing a second and third black BMW appear, flanking them on either side, the first still following behind.

“We’re being followed.” Tora told her.

Poppy looked in the side mirrors, seeing the black BMWs following closely behind.

“Please tell me this is a tuner.” Poppy’s voice was shaky. Tora’s eyes widened in surprise, Poppy looking over at him, saying,

“Uh. I worked on cars with my dad back in the day.”

Tora smirked, shaking his head, shifting the gear on his car, and stepping on the gas, the turbo engine on the car, causing it to jolt forward, pressing Poppy against the seat. Poppy reached up, grasping the Oh Shit handle, clenching her teeth, those black BMWs racing to keep up with him.

The car raced along the streets of Narin City, heading into the left lane. An on-ramp sped into view, a small hill connecting to a bridge, cars racing along the freeway. Tora took the on-ramp at breakneck speeds, the car taking the hill quickly, catching some air, sailing onto the freeway as it landed with a crunching THUD, fishtailing in and out of the first two lanes before Tora regained control of the car, the three BMWs careening onto the highway, resuming position behind the red sports car and flanking left and right.

“Poppy, reach into the glove compartment. There’s a pistol in there. Pull it out.” Tora told her, jerking the wheel to speed around a slow moving car in the left lane. Poppy nodded, pulling the glove compartment open, a pistol clattering down and skittering onto the floorboard, sliding under the seat.

“Oh no. Oh no!” Poppy unbuckled her seatbelt, laying her body over the seat, her hands feeling around under the car seat, fingertips grazing the pistol, thumb and forefinger pinching the barrel, pulling it out from under the seat. 

“Okay. Listen, I need you to do something for me.” Tora told her. “Don’t ask questions. I need ya to take the wheel. Just keep us straight.”

Poppy nodded, and Tora took the gun out of her hands, glancing at the freeway once more to make sure it was a straightaway. He nodded to Poppy and she put her hands on the steering wheel, keeping them straight as Tora leaned out the window, opening fire on the BMW to the right.

Poppy’s heart was racing about a hundred miles an hour as she pulled the wheel to the right to avoid another car, Tora gripping the car as his body leaned with the force of the car. He saw the passenger side window and the two windows in the back roll down, three masked men leaning out of the car, two with semi-automatic guns.

“Oh fuck.” 

All in one solid motion, Tora slid back into the car, dropping the pistol, grabbing the back of Poppy’s neck and pushing her down into the floorboard, taking control of the steering wheel.

“Keep ya head down!” He roared and just as he got that sentence out, a barrage of bullets peppered the car, the back window shattering, a loud whooshing of air and the harsh POP POP POP of the weapons causing Poppy to dip lower, flattening herself against the floorboard.

A second and third barrage of bullets pelted through the car, the leather on the seats absorbing most of the damage as Tora raced around another slow moving car, searching for an exit, but not finding one in sight as they raced across the bridge that spanned the river.

Tora glanced down at the switch near his stick shift, flipping open the casing that kept it safe from being accidentally pressed. He looked in front of him one more time, seeing the bridge ascending into a slight hill, and then, he put on his seatbelt, pressing the button, the nitrous boost lurching the car forward, the three black BMWs falling behind into small black blobs in the distance.

For a moment, Tora let out a sigh of relief, looking in the rear view mirror to see the cars slipping out of view as he took the exit onto the access road. It wasn’t until he returned his attention to the road in front of him that his heart nearly slammed out of his chest: four BMWs blockaded the road in front of him, and Tora was still going well over 150 mph with the assistance of the nitrous boost. There was no time to think; only time to react.

Tora pulled the emergency brake, guiding the car sideways, the drivers side skating toward the blockade of cars when something went wrong. His wheels hopped along the pavement, catching a tire strip, causing the car to careen in the opposite direction, the passenger side slamming into the blockade of cars, his sports car taking flight, flipping over the middle black BMW before slamming into the ground, flipping two more times and coming to a rest upside down in the middle of the access road.

Tora’s vision was blurry, his head spinning, a sharp pain tearing through his brain as he struggled to focus. His fight or flight mode effectively activated, he unbuckled his seatbelt, his body flopping out of the seat onto his head on the roof of the car. He reached up, opening the center console and pulling out the two pistols in there, before reaching under his seat and pulling out the final pistol he had there.

He looked over into the passenger’s seat, expecting to see Poppy there, his mind suddenly panicked when he realized she wasn’t in the car at all. She hadn’t had her seatbelt on when the car made contact and flipped. Panicked, his eyes scanned the area only to see a little green heap lying unmoving in the middle of the road about four yards in front of him.

He moved to crawl out of the car and froze, seeing a pair of legs walking toward Poppy, the tell tale sound of a pistol being pulled and cocked. And something awakened inside of Tora that he had never felt before; this subconscious, vicious and feral anger welled up inside of him, overcoming him, coursing heated adrenaline through his veins. He saw the man near Poppy, aiming the pistol at her head, and he let out a ferocious yell, a primal protective instinct kicking in as the man jumped, turning toward the sound of the yell, and Tora aimed and fired at the man’s legs, taking him down before firing a kill shot to the head.

Tora crawled out from under the car, his body shaking, and he peeked over the car, firing four clean shots and taking down four of his assailants. He ducked down behind the car, hearing the bullets ricocheting off of the pavement and the car around him, waiting for them to reload before he popped back up, firing off four more clean shots, taking down four more assailants. Four remained.

“Draw him out!” He heard someone yell. “Shoot the girl!”

“Fuck.” Tora seethed, his eyes darting over to Poppy’s motionless body. “Fuck!”

He crawled on all fours in a bear crawl before pushing himself off of the ground, taking off at a dead sprint toward Poppy, bullets peppering the ground near his feet, whizzing by his head and body, one nicking him in the shoulder and one lodging itself in his thigh as he dove over Poppy’s body, lying on top of her, firing off two more shots, making contact with one and missing the other, gritting his teeth against the pain of his leg and shoulder.

He rolled onto his side, gripping the gun with both hands and firing off three final shots, taking down the last of the men, before he let out a breath, not realizing he had been holding it the entire time.

“Poppy.” He breathed out anxiously. Gently, he rolled her over on her back, panic setting in as he picked her up, cradling her against his body, shaking her, trying to wake her. Her face was swollen, road rash on one side and lacerations from where she had been thrown from the car, skidding to a halt in the middle of the road.

“Shit.” He sniffled. His hands were shaking, afraid to take her pulse, afraid she might be gone, but he knew he had to do it. He put two fingers to her neck, and, feeling her steady pulse, he let out a sigh of relief.

He whipped out his phone, dialing Quincey’s number.

“Hey, big bro. I’m surprised to hear you—“

“Quincey.” The urgency in Tora’s voice stopped Quincey short, a sharp panic setting in.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Quincey asked, fully alert.

“Someone attacked me. . Seven cars. They chased us down, barricaded us. The car is wrecked. Poppy’s in bad shape. I took a shot to the leg.” Tora explained.

“In public like that? Jesus. I’m sending someone now.” Quincey told him. 

“I want to know who did this. Call Vincent. Send people out here to figure this out before the cops show.” Tora growled. 

“Done.” 

And at that, the line went dead, Quincey setting to work on the tasks at hand. Tora glanced down at Poppy, who groaned, her eyes fluttering open, vision blurring, the orange street light they were sitting under creating a strange heavenly incandescence, a sort of halo of light behind Tora, golden eyes staring down at her in concern.

“Poppy?” His voice was gentle, a sweet sound that coaxed her vision to clear up. She blinked a few times, her lips parting and drawing in a sharp breath. Tora pushed her hair back out of her face gingerly, his thumb idly tracing arches on her cheek as he waited for her to respond.

“Next time you want to impress me with your mad thug skills,” Poppy grunted, “can it not involve me flying through a windshield?”

Tora pffted at that, and Poppy’s mouth curved into a lazy smile.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He grinned. Poppy let out a small laugh, grimacing in pain against the stabbing feeling in her ribs. Again, his brows dipped in concern for her, seeing she was struggling against the pain. 

“I’m so sorry.” He told her, and she opened her eyes. He shook his head, ashamed of himself for putting her in a predicament like this, knowing if he had just fucking stayed away like he was supposed to that none of this would have happened in the first place.

“Hey.” Poppy grumbled. “I knew what I was signing up for when I agreed to this. Don’t blame yourself. You didn’t force me into this. I went willingly.”

Tora nodded, holding her just a little tighter against his body, her tiny little frame feeling so fragile in his arms. So, this is what fear feels like; what near loss feels like; how it feels to care more about someone else than you do about yourself. This is what it feels like to be very nearly in love with someone. That cold fist of dread gripping the heart seeing her body huddled up on the ground, wondering if he had killed her. The warm release at realizing she’s alive and well, and he gets to have her in his life for just a little bit longer. The confusion of wondering whether to laugh or cry because he was so happy that he couldn’t decide what the right reaction was. This is what it’s like.

A yellow Ferrari came to a screeching halt, a pop of blonde hair emerging from the drivers side, running around the side of the car as a second and third black SUV pulled up just behind him.

“Help me get her to the car.” Tora told Quincey, and he nodded, helping lift her off of the ground, Tora cradling her in his arms again as he hobbled to the yellow Ferrari, depositing her in the passengers seat.

“Watch out!” He heard Quincey yell out, and time seemed to slow down for a second, Tora’s head jerking toward the BMWs, where one of the assailants, wounded but alive, fired a shot at the passenger side, bouncing off the door. Tora took off at a dead sprint, his leg wound all but forgotten firing shot after shot after shot at the man on the ground, killing him after the first shot. He reloaded again, standing over the man, and in a fit of fury, unloaded an entire clip into the man’s head, dropping the empty clip on his body.

He turned, hobbling back toward the car.

“Get out of here.” Quincey told him, his eyes flicking to the men who poured out of the SUVs, administering head shots to the downed assailants. “We’ll take care of the rest.”

Tora nodded, sliding into the driver’s seat, the Ferrari spinning around and lurching forward, taking off like a shot toward Quincey’s apartment where the good doctor was waiting to assess Poppy.

*******

Miraculously, Poppy had gotten away with pretty minor injuries despite being thrown from the car at high speeds. The doctor assumed that it was because the BMW had “softened” the impact before Poppy was thrown from the vehicle.

“She’s got some pretty severe bruised ribs, broken collar bone and wrist from the impact. Likely a concussion. Other than that, I’ve definitely seen worse from accidents much less severe than yours.” The doctor told him, an old man with a liver spotted bald spot on his head looking over his glasses at Tora with severe eyes. 

Tora glanced inside the darkened room, seeing Poppy hooked up to an IV bag, the light drip drip dripping of sedative coursing through the IV, Poppy resting peacefully in the bed. 

His phone pinged in his pocket, and he glanced down at the screen, seeing the message from Quincey lighting up his screen,

“We know who did it.”

“How long will she be out?” Tora asked darkly, not looking up from his screen. The doctor glanced up from his chart, looking at Tora questioningly.

“About four more hours, I would say.” The doctor told him.

“Good.” Tora nodded, heading into the spare bedroom that Quincey kept for him and grabbing his bag from the closet, metallic and plastic clanking sounding from inside the large bag as he dropped it on the ground, reaching into the closet for the janitor’s jumpsuit.

“Going somewhere?” The doctor asked him. Tora glared over at him as if to say, “None of your business,” but the doctor didn’t back down.

“I have business to take care of.” He said, stepping into the khaki jumpsuit and zipping it up, throwing the clanking bag over his shoulder and pulling a cap down low over his eyes and heading for the door.

“You know,” the doctor sighed, well aware of what was going on having worked for Balthuman for as long as he could remember, “this business you’re going to take care of—it’s not going to change what happened.”

“Maybe not,” Tora growled, pausing to address the doctor over his shoulder, “but it sure as fuck is going to make me feel better.”

And at that, he headed out the door.

*********

Poppy’s eyes fluttered open, the room she was in dark and unfamiliar. She breathed in, arching her back in an attempt to stretch, her body revolting violently against that attempt, a stabbing searing pain taking her breath away. She inhaled sharply, the smell of plastic in her nose, realizing she had oxygen running to her.

“Oh, my god.” She grumbled, throat tightening against the pain. Next to her, she saw a head pop off the bed at the sound of her voice, and she jumped, not having noticed him there. One hand flew to her chest and the other attempted to, but his heavy hand was on hers, holding it.

“W—who are you?” She struggled, panicking a little. She saw the figure shift a moment, leaning over toward the lamp on the bedside table and turning it on. His dark hair was mussed up from sleep, dark circles under his golden eyes, mouth curved into his signature frown, the dark charcoal, long sleeved Henley he wore making him look a little more severe.

“Tora.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He croaked, clearing his throat.

“Are—“ Poppy swallowed hard. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“Am I hurt?” He asked incredulously. “I’m not the one hooked up to all the tubes and machines, so yeah. I’d say I’m fine.”

His voice was bitter, a punch of pain creeping through each syllable. Poppy glanced down at his hand on hers, and, noticing what she was looking at, he started to pull it away.

“No!” She said a little too quickly. He looked at her in surprise. “I mean. I like it. It’s nice.”

She noticed a bandage around his thigh.

“What happened?” She asked him, nodding to his thigh. 

“Gunshot wound.” He told her.

“Does it hurt?” She asked, and his heart melted at the look of concern on her face, the sentiment and feeling in her voice.

“Not anymore.” He told her, but it was only a half truth. He forced a smile to his face, and Poppy could see right through him. She knew what he was doing, what he was going to do.

“Look, I know what happened probably scared you a lot—“ she started to say.

“Probably?” He scoffed, shaking his head.

“Okay, it did, but—but I’m okay. Everything is fine now.” She tried time sound comforting, but she failed miserably, his head snapping to look at her like she had lost her mind. 

“This isn’t okay.” He seethed. “YOU’RE not okay.” 

“I’m f—“ she started.

“Don’t tell me you’re fine.” He told her. “We both know that’s a lie.”

Poppy squeezed her eyes shut, biting her lip. She could feel him slipping away from her, throwing those walls back up again that she had so carefully worked to tear down a brick at a time.

“Don’t leave.” She told him, and even she was surprised the words came out of her mouth. She wasn’t used to asking for anything from anyone. It was a foreign feeling to her, and it was terrifying to await the rejection she might be forced to feel.

“I wasn’t—“ he started to say and then realized what she meant.

“You know what I mean.” She told him, sitting up a little more, forcing herself not to grimace against them pain. “Let me make this choice.”

“Ya know I can’t do that.” He looked away from her, pulling his hand away.

“You can.” She spat. “But you won’t.”

“I’m not going through this again.” He told her. “I can’t.”

“Why?” She pressed. “Give me one good reason why—“

“Because I can’t stand the fact that ya almost fucking died tonight and that was all on me.” He roared at her. “Ya don’t know what it feels like to see ya lying there on the pavement and not know if ya dead or not.”

“Tora—“

“That was the longest few minutes of my whole fucking life, Poppy. Watching someone walk up to ya, ready to fucking end your life because you’re with me. And then having to pick your body up off the ground, terrified that you were fucking dead.” He growled, squeezing his eyes shut against the memory. “So, no. I won’t. I refuse. I fucking refuse.”

Poppy sealed her lips together, pressing them into a thin line.

“Fine.” Poppy spat. “If you won’t do this, I guess it’s on me to.”

Poppy threw the blankets back, wincing against the pain, sitting up in bed.

“What are you doing?” Tora hissed. Poppy swung her legs off of the bed, standing on the floor, her legs wobbling. She reached for her IV.

“Don’t you dare.” He warned. She arched an eyebrow and yanked the IV out, not even flinching against the pain, blood coursing down her arm as she stared at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He roared, stomping toward her. “You’re so fucking stubborn!”

“Pot to kettle.” Poppy clenched her fists, going toe to toe with the tiger. 

“Ya don’t know what ya asking me for.” He told her. 

“After last night, I’d like to think I have a pretty good idea of it.” She bit back. “Guns, high speed chases, thugs trying to kill us, crashing into—“

“Why can’t ya see that I’m doing all of this because I fucking care about ya?” Tora roared, cutting her off, and Poppy’s eyes widened in shock, Tora even seeming shocked he had even said it. The words hung in the air thickly, curling and wrapping between the two of them like a serpent coiling around them, swallowing them whole.

“Why won’t ya let me keep you safe?” He whispered, his hands gently taking her face, staring into her eyes.

“Because that’s not your job.” She told him, and she saw him furrow his brow in thought. Poppy felt her heart beating wildly, nearly breaking out of her chest. Finally, she threw herself at him, lips colliding with his, arms wrapped around his neck. Tenderly he wrapped his arms around her, afraid to hurt her, but absolutely lost in the heat of her kiss. His lips moved against hers, tongue darting between his lips, hers inviting him to explore her mouth and know her better.

When the two of them came back up for air, Tora picked her up, gently depositing her back onto the bed.

“Don’t pull that shit again.” He told her, and Poppy smirked at him,

“Don’t threaten to leave again, and I won’t.”

Tora shot her a sharp look and she raised her eyebrows in return.

“So. What happened to those guys anyway?”  
Poppy asked. Tora looked over at her, a strange look that she couldn’t quite place falling over his face. He thought back to a few hours ago, looking through a night vision scope, finding a head in the crosshairs, his finger squeezing the trigger, the satisfying PEW of the silenced sniper rifle taking care of the issue before it had a chance to escalate any further.

“They won’t be back.” Tora told her, his eyes on her face, searching for a reaction. Poppy swallowed hard and whispered,

“Good.”

It was good. For now. 

“I’m going to call the doctor again—since someone ripped her IV out of her hand.” Tora told her, digging in his pocket for his phone, turning to leave the room.

“Will you come back?” Tora knew what she meant when she asked that question. She didn’t mean in the temporary sense, and he knew that. He pondered the question, looking back at her, before he told her,

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll be back.”


	5. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cordy and Poppy go for a ride. Quincy and Tora get jealous and intervene!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cordy and Poppy go for a ride. Quincy and Tora get jealous and intervene!

“Gah! I’m never going to finish this proposal on time.” Poppy groaned. “Just...need...to...focus.”

Poppy intently strained her attention at her laptop screen, fully committing herself to the task at hand when her cell phone pinged.

“No.” Poppy whispered to herself. “Don’t. Do. It.”

Her eyes flicked in the direction of the lit up phone screen before flicking back to her laptop screen. She took a deep breath, waiting for the glow of the screen in her peripheral vision to go dark, which, eventually, it finally did.

“Okay. Now.” She centered herself, finding her work zen. “Time to focus on—“

Ping.

There it was again. Her cell phone pinging.

“Well. It won’t kill me just to sneak a peek.” Poppy reached for her phone, her fingers itching to see who was providing her with some less than needed but still appreciated attention. “Besides, it’s rude to ignore people. What if it’s Quincey?”

It wasn’t Quincey, and Poppy knew it. It was nearly 11 o’clock at night, and business calls usually stopped coming in by around 7 o’clock. A number she didn’t recognize popped up on the screen with the words “Text Message” just underneath it. Poppy opened her phone to read the text:

Hey Pops. It’s Cordelia. Wanna go for a ride?

Poppy let out an excited squeal before catching herself. 

“Oh, get a hold of yourself, Poppy!” She chastised herself. “You will not be going on this ride because you did not finish your work!”

Poppy slammed her phone face down on the nightstand.

“Now,” she wriggled in front of her laptop screen. “Time to focus.”

Poppy turned her attention at her laptop screen, fully intent on committing herself to the proposal she was determined to finish.

*********

Quincey sighed a long, overly dramatic sigh, flopping backward onto the couch, his phone tumbling onto the cushion. Tora glanced over his shoulder for a moment, knowing full well that Quincey wanted him to ask what was wrong and talk about his issues. So, rather than doing that, he turned his attention back to the video game he was playing.

Again, Quincey sighed a loud, long, dramatic sigh, flopping sideways on the couch, putting his hand on his head for extra effect. Tora turned his headphones up, trying to avoid the conversation he knew would be forced on him eventually anyway.

“I was so looking forward to another delightful rendezvous with Sugarplum.” Quincey groaned. Now, it was Tora’s turn to sigh. He pushed pause on his game, setting down his controller and pulling his headphones off of his head, turning his annoyed attention to Quincey, who remained silent, waiting for him to ask the unspoken question, which, after a long, uncomfortable silence, he stammered,

“Uh—what happened?”

“She said she’s taking Miss Editor out for some personal time.” Quincey sighed. Tora perked up at the mention of “Miss Editor,” turning his full body and attention to Quincey.

“Personal time? The fuck does that mean?” He grumbled. Fully realizing exactly what Cordelia probably meant by “personal time,” Quincey sat up ramrod straight, his eyes widening to the size of saucers.

“You don’t think—“ Quincey gulped.

“With Bobby? Nah. No way.” Tora dismissed Quincey, scoffing at the thought of that. The two of them sat in uncomfortable silence, before Quincey shot up off of the couch,

“Well, we should probably go—do a—you know, sweep of the streets. Just in case, right?”

“Yeah. Just in case.” Tora agreed, following suit, the two of them running into each other before scrambling toward the apartment door.

*********

Cordy’s mouth spread into a devious smile before she put her cell phone in her pocket, waving to Poppy as she pushed the gate of her apartment complex open.

“Thanks for inviting me out.” Poppy smiled. “I needed a break.”

Cordy grinned, holding out a helmet to Poppy, jerking her head toward the bike with one corner of her mouth turned up, saying,

“Hop on.”

Poppy practically ran to jump on the back of the bike, plopping herself behind Cordy, sliding her helmet on, pumping her fist, and grinning,

“I’ve got the need!” 

Cordy grinned over her shoulder, more than happy to indulge Poppy by finishing,

“The need for speed!”

Poppy squealed excitedly as Cordy slid her helmet on. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Cordy’s waist and pressing herself against her. Cordy revved the engine, and they took off like a shot, the orange street lights of Narin City passing in a blur of firefly like glow, the loud buzzing of the engine reverberating through the night sky as they wove in and out of Saturday night traffic, flying through the streets at breakneck speeds. Poppy watched Cordy as she glanced into the rear view mirror before shaking her head Suddenly, Cordy slammed on the brakes, the bike lurching forward, back wheel lifting off the ground as they skated to a halt.

Poppy tore her helmet off, crying,

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Cordy pulled her helmet off and looked over her shoulder at Poppy, grinning,

“Wanna do something fun?”

*********

The red sports car crept through the streets, Tora being as careful as possible not to draw too much attention to his already very noticeable car. 

“Where do you think they could be?” Quincey grumbled, fidgeting with his phone in frustration, obviously forgetting his whole lie about needing to sweep the streets.

“I’m sure they’re around her somewhere. She probably picked Bobby up, so she should be—“

Suddenly, a motorcycle shot into view behind them, jerking wildly to the side, and racing around the car. As the bike passed, Quincey and Tora turned their attention to it, Quincey perking up at the sight of his Sugarplum looking hot in skintight leather, Tora feeling less than happy at the sight of a smaller girl whose arms were wrapped around Cordy’s waist tightly, body pressed against her back.

“Follow that bike!” Quincey shouted, tugging wildly on Tora’s shirt as Tora switched gears, pressing hard on the gas. He watched the bike weave in and out of traffic, anxiety slowly building in him as he watched Cordy stunt through the streets, narrowly missing several cars and blowing through many more red lights.

Tora had been struggling to keep up when suddenly the bike skidded to a halt several yards in front of them, Tora braking hard as well.

“The FUCK is she doing?” Tora roared, glaring at Quincey.

“She’s an adrenaline junkie.” Quincey shrugged.

“Now what are they doing?” Tora grumbled, watching Cordy get off the bike, motioning to Poppy, who got off the bike and switched spots with Cordy, taking the handlebars. Cordy stood next to the bike, motioning to the various important parts of the bike (the throttle, the brake handle, the brake pedal), putting her hands gently over Poppy’s to guide her over the various details. Tora crossed arms petulantly, glaring over at Quincey,

“This is your fault, ya know.”

“Me? How is it my fault?” Quincey cried.

“You’re the one who got the bright fucking idea to invite ya girl to the restaurant in the first place!” Tora huffed.

“How was I supposed to know this was going to happen?” Quincey snarled.

“Because it’s fucking Cordelia!” Tora bellowed, gesturing angrily in the direction of the two girls on the bike.

“What does that even mean?” Quincey cried, crossing his arms. He scowled for a moment before suddenly a moment of realization dawned on him. He smirked, narrowing his eyes at Tora, asking,

“Wait a minute. Why are YOU so upset?”

Tora’s face burned a bright red, glaring over in Quincey’s direction, stumbling over his words,

“I—we—because—“

“What? I can’t quite make out what you’re saying.” Quincey grinned at him.

“Ah fuck off, Quincey.” Tora grumbled.

*********

“Alright, lets do this!” Poppy pumped a fist, and Cordy grinned beneath her helmet, straddling the bike and wrapping her arms around Poppy’s waist.

“Let’s hit the freeway.” Cordy said. Poppy lifted her foot off of the ground and off they went, a red sports car in pursuit. 

Poppy cast a glance in the rear view mirror, seeing the red car discreetly tailing her. She leaned down, grasped the throttle and off they went like a shot, the bike lurching forward into traffic on the freeway, Tora trailing close behind.

*********

“Miss Editor is quite the little daredevil!” Quincey smirked, holding onto the Oh Shit handle as Tora swerved to avoid a slow moving car, trying to keep up with the little red blur that was Poppy.

Quincey’s phone began to jingle a happy little tune, and he glanced down at the phone, answering it on speakerphone.

“Hello there, sugarplum.” Quincey happily smiled. The sounds of rushing air and the buzzing of the bike caused Tora to cast a sideways glance at Quincey, who shrugged.

“I’m taking Poppy to dinner.” Cordy told him. Quincey frowned, sticking his bottom lip out like a scolded toddler.

“That’s just delightful. Bonding time.” Quincey flatly told her. Tora’s lips twitched at that comment.

“We’re going to that place with the restaurant and arcade.” Cordy explained.

“What an unexpected coincidence! We were just heading there ourselves!” Quincey perked up.

“Really?” Cordy didn’t sound convinced. “Is that why you’ve been tailing us all night?”

“Whaaaaat?” Quincey’s voice shot up an octave of pure guilt. “Who? Us? Tailing you? No way!”

“Right. There’s absolutely no reason you would do that.” Cordy was smiling over the phone, and that irritated Tora. “I didn’t know Tora even liked arcade games. He doesn’t seem the type.”

“And how would YOU know what the fuck I like?” Tora growled. Cordy laughed merrily at his petulance.

“Well, see you soon then.” Cordy laughed, and the line went dead.

*********

Tora and Quincey sat in the darkened corner of the arcade, arms crossed, sour expressions as they watched Cordy and Poppy having the time of their life playing games.

“She’s not even that good at games.” Quincey muttered, and Tora harrumphed at that. Cordy moved a strand of Poppy’s hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear, and Quincey sat forward, thrusting his hand into the massively overfilled cup of golden gaming tokens in front of him, scooping them up and letting them fall back into the cup over and over again. 

Tora glared as the two of them watched Poppy and Cordy head toward Time Crisis 2. Suddenly, Tora shot out of the booth, swiping the token cup and startling Quincey, who led out a yelp, and hitting the table, which let out a loud bang, a few of the people who sat around their table jumping in their seats. He stomped over to where Cordy and Poppy were getting ready to play.

“Well, hey Tiger.” Cordy smiled merrily, slipping a few tokens into the machine. Tora turned his gaze on Poppy, whose smiled disappeared.

“I wanna play.” Tora growled. Poppy hesitated for a moment, and then handed the toy pistol over to Tora, who took it, sliding a few tokens into the machine.

The game started up into story mode, the two of them focused on the story as the characters headed inside of a building, taking cover. Quincey had somehow managed to stroll over, hands in his pockets, trying not to look suspicious as he stood by Poppy, who looked at him strangely. He looked down at her, closing his eyes and curling his lips up in a tight smile as he watched Cordy and Tora play the game.

Cordy popped out of her hiding, easily taking out three of the men, before tipping the gun sideways to reload. Tora popped out of his hiding spot and was immediately hit by a bazooka blast, one of his life packs disappearing off the screen. He muttered something about the game not being anything like real life as the two characters progressed into a long hallway before taking cover again.

Again, Cordy leaned out, ducking behind a wall as a hatchet narrowly missed her character, popping back out to continue shooting. Tora leaned out and was immediately hit by a flying hatchet. 

“What?!” He pronounced the word with absolute disdain, a punch of anger lying beneath the single syllables word. His patience was hanging on by a thread. 

The characters progressed once more, heading into some trenches this time, Cordy popping around the corner to shoot at a few of the assailants before ducking back behind the wall again.

“If I fucking get hit with some random ass shit one more time...” Tora popped out from behind a wall, shooting at the assailants, taking a few of them out with a satisfied grin. What he didn’t see was the tower in the distance, which had slowly turned, the muzzle of a large cannon facing his position, and shot out a large cannon, absolutely annihilating Tora’s character as the Continue? Screen popped up. Quincey’s mouth dropped open in utter disbelief, Cordy’s lips twitched, trying to refrain from smiling, and Poppy covered her mouth with her hand, unable to keep herself from smiling at Tora’s misfortunes.

Tora stood frozen, blinking a few times at the events that just unfolded before he hurled the gun at the screen, the red pistol dangling from the black cord, and he stomped away, utterly humiliated in his quest. Poppy ran off after Tora. Quincey sidestepped, discreetly, leaning on the machine as he smiled dashingly at Cordy. 

“Hola, papi.” He wriggled his eyebrows, narrowing his eyes seductively, blowing a kiss to Cordy, who gave him a sideways glance and sighed,

“If you’re going to be here, at least pretend you’re here to play the game.”

Quincey straightened up, putting a few tokens in the machine, and joining the game. Cordy glanced over at Quincey, then, she leaned over, kissing his cheek as Quincey absolutely melted under the much needed attention and the two of them set to work murdering digital baddies.

*********

“Tora, wait!” Poppy giggled, chasing after him. When he didn’t stop, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn and face her. He stumbled over his words,

“That—that game isn’t anything like—like—well—“

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s rigged to take your money and make you keep playing.” Poppy smiled. “It happens to me all the time.”

Tora relaxed a little.

“Besides, I can tell by the way you were holding the gun that you know what you’re doing. Those guys would’ve been goners if that was real life.” Poppy nudged him, trying to get him to lighten up a little.

“How would you know that?” Tora poked at her, and Poppy stuck her tongue out in response, her attention drifting to the photo booth nearby.

“Hey! Let’s go do that!” She pulled at his arm excitedly. Tora hated having his picture taken, but Poppy seemed so happy about doing it that he caved, following her to the booth. He moved the curtain back, revealing two teenagers who turned hastily, ready to tell whoever just discovered them to fuck off, but, upon seeing Tora, scurried out of the booth.

Poppy slid in, bouncing excitedly in the seat, and Tora smirked, sliding in next to her, leaving a little space between them.

“Oh, come on, Tora. You have to get closer than that or you won’t be in the frame.” Poppy put her hand around his waist, forcing him closer to her, and he became acutely aware that their thighs were touching. He tried not to think about it too much, leaning forward to put the tokens into the machine, which started up with a whir, counting down from three. Poppy flashed a peace sign as Tora stared blankly at the screen and a bright flash engulfed the booth.

“Alright! Do a funny pose!” The machine commanded, and Poppy giggled, putting her fingers in her mouth, pulling her cheeks apart and sticking her tongue out. Tora sat stoically as the machine counted down from three and another bright flash saturated the booth in blinding white light.

“Aw, come on. This is supposed to be fun. You look miserable. Play along!” Poppy pouted. Tora looked over at her, ready to argue when the machine shouted,

“Absolutely hilar! Now do a serious pose.”

Poppy felt Tora’s eyes on her, turning to face him, the two of them locking eyes, Tora relaxing as he turned his body toward her. Poppy felt her heart start to beat out of her chest, pounding so loud she wondered if Tora could hear it too. He leaned toward her, getting close to her.

“Am I playing along now?” He asked her, and she gulped audibly, the machine counting down from three and another flash of white blanketing the booth.

“Last one!” The machine cried out. “Now show me the love!”

Tora put his hand on her cheek.

“You know, all night I’ve been craving a cigarette, and I haven’t touched them once.” He told her. “I think I might need to cave in to that craving. You know—replace it with something a little sweeter.”

The machine counted down.

Three.

He put his hand on her cheek.

Two.

He leaned toward her, Poppy feeling herself scarcely breathing.

One.

Their lips connected, eyes closed as the flash of white light filled up the booth again, the voice muffling instructions for how to claim the photos outside of the booth, but the two of them ignored the instructions.

It wasn’t until he heard Quincey audibly squeak outside of the booth that the two of them quickly separated, pulling the curtain back to find Cordy smirking, her arms crossed and Quincey squealing in excitement, hopping up and down a bit.

“I knew it!” He cheered. “I knew it!”

It was at that moment, much to Tora and Poppy’s chagrin, that they realized that there was a screen outside of the booth showing what was going on inside the booth. Poppy’s face burned in humiliation as she stuttered,

“H—how long were you—“

“The whole time.” Quincey answered before she finished, nodding at her, and grinning like a maniac. Poppy glanced over at Cordy, who winked at her, discreetly giving her a thumbs up, before Cordy put her arm around Quincey’s neck, guiding him away from the two of them as he chattered away about being a master matchmaker.

Poppy covered her face with her hands.

“Hey.” She heard Tora say. She peeked at him through her fingers to see him looking through the strip of photos they had taken. “These are pretty good.”

She reached out, taking the second strip of photos from the booth and studying it before her eyes rested on the final frame, fingers running over the picture of the two of them kissing.

“Yeah.” Poppy smiled. “They really are.”


	6. The Photoshoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goldfish Publishing was supposed to do a photoshoot for Quincey’s next book cover but the male model got sick. Poppy and Quincey start eying Tora🤣

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Miss Evelyn...who came up with this idea

Goldfish Publishing was supposed to do a photoshoot for Quincey’s next book cover but the male model got sick. Poppy and Quincey start eying Tora🤣

“He would never go for it.” Poppy sighed, chewing on the inside of her lip, staring out the window at Tora, who was trying to hide the fact that he was smoking a cigarette since he knew how much Poppy hated it.

“I think he might if we play our cards right.” Quincey smiled. “That is to say if YOU play your cards right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Poppy narrowed her eyes at Quincey who shrugged, saying,

“Trust me, Miss Editor. I’m a phenomenal people reader.”

She didn’t though. She didn’t trust him at all. Tora flicked the butt of his cigarette out into the parking lot, popping a breath mint in as if that would hide the smell to the untrained nose. He pulled the door open, heading in to find both Poppy and Quincey staring at him speculatively. He froze, considering turning around and heading back out the door as his eyes darted back and forth between the two of them.

“I—Uh—We need a favor.” Poppy stammered. Quincey nodded wildly, smiling like an idiot as he did so.

“Well? Spit it out.” Tora told her, crossing his arms. Poppy thought about the best way to ask him, but her nerves got the better of her as she blurted out,

“I need you to be the model for the cover of Quincey’s new book.”

Quincey’s smile tightened, and he glanced over at Poppy and then back to Tora. Tora raised his eyebrows, a smirk playing on his lips.

“So. Ya do think of me when you’re thinking dirty, eh?” Tora leaned forward, wriggling his eyebrows at Poppy, whose mouth dropped open as she growled,

“You would make it dirty, you perv!”

Tora howled with laughter at that, Quincey nervously laughing in a cadence that sounded strangely like Scooby Doo.

“‘Course I’m willing to help out.” Tora’s smile darkened, its devious nature revealing itself. “But my help isn’t free ya know.”

“Yeah, I know. What is it you want this time?” Poppy rolled her eyes.

“Well, as far as I know, dirty book covers usually have two people on them.” Tora told her, leaning down at eye level with Poppy, whose face burned a crimson red. “Which means I can’t be on it alone. I’d need my—love interest.”

“B—but I’m nowhere near model material.” Poppy stammered.

“Oh this is perfect!” Quincey clapped. “I, for one, love this idea, and it’s my book, so I should get to decide what the cover looks like.”

“But I—“ Poppy started to protest.

“I won’t take no for an answer! To hair and makeup!” Quincey shouted, jabbing a finger in the air. Two makeup assistants scurried into the room, taking Poppy by both arms and escorting her into hair and makeup. Tora pffted at her plight and Quincey shot a sharp glance his way, crossing his arms,

“I don’t know why you’re laughing. You’re going too!”

Two more assistants entered the room, heading toward Tora, who glowered at them, growling,

“Like fuck are you putting makeup on my face!”

*********

“Remind me why I agreed to this again.” Tora sighed, a full face of natural looking makeup covering his skin and tattoos, his locks blown out into shining Fabio-esque hair. He pulled uncomfortably at the flowing white shirt, open at the collar revealing his chest, which was tucked into tight black trousers. Tora glanced at himself in the mirror feeling strange with his tattoos covered by makeup. The tall black boots coming up to his knees were definitely not something he was used to. He definitely looked like he walked straight out of the 18th century.

“Because a cute little brunette, who also happens to be on the cover with you, asked you to.” Quincey sweetly responded, and, as if right on cue, the door opened, and out walked Poppy. Tora turned, catching sight of her, and his jaw all but hit the ground. Poppy clutched at a silky purple robe, which covered her costume. Her hair was blown out into voluminous curls, natural makeup accenting her beautiful big brown eyes and high cheekbones, a light peach tint adorning her lips, a light golden shimmer catching the light. Tora’s mouth went dry.

Poppy nervously stood in front of him, clutching the robe tightly against her body, catching his eye and nervously looking around, asking,

“Wh—what? Does it look bad?”

Tora blinked a few times, and shook his head.

“Nah. You look—“

He waved his hand around trying to find a word that didn’t make it seem like he wanted to tear her robes off and go at her in front of everyone then and there.

“Nice.” He finished. Poppy’s frowned at that.

“Oh god.” Quincey grumbled, slapping his forehead as Tora shot a petulant stare his way. “I can’t with you. Just go over there in front of the green screen.”

Tora sighed, heading over to the x on the green screen floor and standing there, hands on his hips in front of a lightly blowing fan. Poppy froze in place, seeing him in front of her, long black locks blowing behind him as he shook the hair out of his face, running a hand through it as he glanced over at her.

“Oh—my.” She found herself mumbling aloud. She felt like she was watching a shampoo ad, but the best kind of shampoo ads; the kind of ad where Tora’s in the shower washing soap out of his hair, fingers sliding over wet hair, those suds slowly running down his perfectly sculpted chest and deliciously lickable abs.

“Um. Miss Editor?”

Poppy jumped, looking over at the source of the voice. Quincey smirked at her knowingly.

“I need you over there too.” He told her.

“Yes! Right!” Poppy hopped, turning to leave.

“Not so fast.” Quincey’s smirk widened into a grin. Poppy turned and blinked at Quincey. “Your robe?”

“My—“ Poppy’s mouth dried. The moment she dreaded had arrived. Her robe. She had to remove it. “What if I just—“

“Non-negotiable.” Quincey shook his head, holding his hand out to take the robe. Poppy closed her eyes, letting out a long sigh. Slowly, she slid the silk robe off, and for the second time, Tora found himself staring:

Her bare shoulders were dusted with a golden highlight. The soft chiffon sleeves fell over her shoulders, two rich wine colored long sleeves graced her arms, a sweetheart neckline showing off an ample amount of cleavage, her breasts pushed up, nearly spilling over the gown. The bodice was fitted to her body, a band hugging her waist flowing out as a gentle billow, a thigh high slit revealing bare legs, that same golden highlight accentuating her legs and bare feet.

Poppy stood in front of him, tucking a strand of hair nervously behind her ear as the photography team took their place behind the camera, the hair and makeup team making final adjustments.

“Bring in the barrel.” The man behind the camera called out, and an old looking artillery barrel was rolled in. “Tora. Help Poppy up onto the barrel.”

Tora put his hands on Poppy’s waist, easily lifting her up onto the barrel, which wobbled gently beneath her.

“The story is Tora is a man taken prisoner by Poppy, the pirate queen.” Quincey explained, arms crossed behind the cameraman. One of the makeup crew brought in a pair of shackles, fastening them to Tora’s wrists.

“Poppy. Take the chains.” The cameraman called. Poppy reached out, hands shaking, feeling their proximity grow closer, his body draw nearer to her, fingers grasping the chains.

“Tora. I want you to—“

Tora leaned in, his fingers grazing her leg, exposed from the slit, looking down at his fingers as he did so. The room went silent as every sense in Poppy’s body lit up like Christmas, responding to his touch. She felt herself looking at him, his eyes beautiful, intense, focused on her body.

“Shoot. Fucking shoot!” Quincey hissed, waving at the cameraman, the spell effectively broken.

Lights flashed, cameras clicked, and a flurry of activity began all around them, but Poppy found herself unable to look away from him, particularly as she felt his body settle between her legs, pulling her leg up, hitching it around his waist with his left hand as he pulled her body against his with his right hand.

Poppy felt her breath coming quickly, almost in gasps, the sensual way he touched her making her feel like she wanted to explode. She couldn’t help herself. She found herself leaning forward, and before she could stop herself, her lips pressed herself against his. 

Tora let her leg go, pulling her body, moulding it to his, hands on her face, running down her body. 

“Ahem.” 

Poppy yanked herself away, face flushing bright red, and Tora glared at Quincey, who said,

“Next up, the prison.”

“What do you mean ‘next up?’ How many fu—damn covers are we shooting?” Tora growled.

“I need options.” Quincey shrugged. The crew scurried in, bringing a faux stone wall with shackles attached to it. The crew pulled Tora over, fastening him to the wall. Tora sighed, rolling his eyes. “Poppy, I just need you to—“

Poppy strode forward, hands on Tora’s chest, smirking up at him as she yanked his shirt open, the buttons effectively snapping off as she unfastened one of his shackles, the camera clicking away all the time.

“I’m just going to stop giving directions.” Quincey grumbled, sulking away.

Tora took her by her hand, whirling her around, her body pressed against his, hand on her stomach, pushing his against him, lips pressing against her neck as she leaned into him.

“I think that’ll do.” Quincey cheerfully grinned. Poppy awkwardly pulled herself off of Tora and he cleared his throat. Poppy scurried off toward the dressing room to change, her face flushed a bright red, the door slamming behind her.

Quincey turned his attention to Tora, crossing his arms.

“So...did you enjoy yourself?” Quincey prodded, trying to seem nonchalant. Tora glanced over at him as he wriggled his eyebrows at Tora in response.

“Fuck off.” Tora growled, stalking out toward the door to go change, Quincey chuckling behind him as he did. Tora stopped, whirling on Quincey, and jabbing a finger in his direction,

“Show those pictures to anyone, and I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Me? Do something like that?” Quincey’s voice rose an octave higher, his fingers flying across the keyboard on his screen.

Tora eyed him suspiciously before heading out the door. Quincey glanced over his shoulder at the door before scrolling through his phone, looking at all of the pictures they had just taken, carefully selecting his favorite.

“Look at our BB—growing up so fast.” Quincey attached a picture and hit send. He sighed, grinning at his accomplishment.

“GODDAMIT, QUINCEY!” He heard a voice roar from the dressing room. Quincey nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of his voice as he fumbled with his phone, looking at the recipients...and realizing he sent the picture in their group chat with both Gyu and Tora.

“Welp! It’s been a real pleasure, but I’ve got to run.” Quincey smiled, waving at the photographer, and rushing out the door, the sound of a door slamming open with a deafening crack sent him running at a dead sprint toward his car.

“Tora!” A voice called, and Tora paused, clenching his hands into fists. He put his hands on his hips, resolving to take his revenge on Quincey later that day.

“Hey.” Poppy smiled, catching up to him. “Thank you—for everything. I appreciate you stepping in today. I know it probably wasn’t—what you were expecting.”

“No. It wasn’t.” He told her, and her face fell a little at that. “But it was worth it.” 

Tora smirked, and he turned, waving over his shoulder as he walked away.

“Oh hey!” Poppy called. “You forgot something!”

“Did I?” Tora looked back at her. Poppy ran to him, stopping just in front of him, the weight of his gaze falling on her.

“Yeah.” Her voice was breathless and he arched an eyebrow questioningly. She steeled herself, pulling him down, her lips pressing against for a brief moment before she pulled away from him.

“Your reward.” She smiled, and he found himself grinning back at her like a fool. 

“Yeah.” He said. “Definitely worth it.”

And he kissed her one last time before heading off to take his revenge on that traitor of a friend.


	7. Halloween Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some spooks for ya!

Tora slapped his flashlight against his thigh for the third time.

“God damned flashlight.” He grumbled, situating a cigarette between his teeth.

“Why did we have to come to the Balthuman Summer Manor again?” Damien shifted nervously, practically breathing down Tora’s neck. Tora turned over his shoulder and smirked,

“What’s wrong, Pinky? Ya scared?”

“Pfft. Me? Scared? Yeah ri—“ 

A sudden crashing of thunder cut Damien’s sentence off, and he jumped, clutching on to Tora’s jacket. He gasped for breath and, upon realizing that he had just given himself away, smiled sheepishly, letting Tora’s jacket go and backing up, dusting himself off.

“So.” Brian cleared his throat, rolling his eyes. “What do you need us to do?”

“Motion sensors went off here. Cameras caught someone on the property, but didn’t get a good view of em. We need to find em and take care of em.” Tora explained, blowing out a plume of smoke. He glanced around the room, finding an ash tray near the front entrance of the massive manor.

“Right.” Damien squeaked nervously, tugging at his jacket.

“Since this place is so fucking huge, we are gone have to split up.” Tora sighed, pulling his gun out, checking to make sure he had a full clip and a spare and then replacing the gun.

“Oh. R—really? Shouldn’t we, you know—watch each other’s back or something?” Damien inquired. 

“Pinky. If ya scared, the door’s right there. But don’t expect Vincent to be too please that you pussed out.” Tora told him. He waited a moment for Damien to collect himself and then continued,

“I’ll take the upstairs. Brian—west wing. Pinky—east wing.”

“Right.” Damien assented, heading off to the left.

“Yo. Dumbass.” Tora called. Damien turned to face him. “East wing’s that way.”

“Yeah. I know. I was just—taking the scenic route.” Damien grumbled, scurrying toward the east wing. Tora turned his attention to Brian,

“Let me know if you find anything.”

Brian nodded, putting his hands in his pockets as the two of them went their separate ways.

*******

DAMIEN

*******

“Stupid thunderstorm.” He grumbled, the wooden floor beneath him rumbling a bit from the thunder. The long hallway he was in reminded him of a movie he had seen once. What was it again? 

He passed a window that flickered blue, the white walls behind him prompting a dark shadow to follow him closely.

“The Lighting?” He nervously mused aloud, trying to keep the terror at bay; trying not to think about the echoes of his footsteps on the hardwood floors.

“The Glimmering?” His voice quivered as he tried to steel his nerves, attempting to ignore the sounds of the house settling as he passed several heavy wooden doors. 

“The—Shining.” He paused in front of a door, a soft sighing whooshing down the hallway, making him jump. Beneath the door, a soft golden light invited him to enter. Hands trembling, he reached out toward the door handle, fingers touching the gentle curve of the lever. His eyes suddenly flicked back down to the floor, still watching the golden light as a long, dark shadow slowly snuffed out the light passing from left to right.

Damien took his hand off of the door handle, backing away from the door. His teeth chattered together, hands diving into the depths of his pockets for his cell phone. 

“Come on!” He whimpered, sweaty fingers sliding off of the sleek edges of the cell phone as he pinched down, grabbing the edges. Behind him, the great white casement windows slammed open. Damien whirled around, back crashing into the door behind him. Gauzy white curtains billowed wildly in the wind, torrents of rain pouring in, soaking the runner. Another flash of cerulean lightning cracked like a whip, the curtains crossing over each other in the middle, and a dark shadowy figure standing in the middle of the open window.

Damien fumbled the with the gun in his waistband, pulling it out and cocking it. He felt tears pooling in his eyes as he aimed it at the figure, screaming,

“Who the fuck are you!”

The figure didn’t answer. It simply sat unmoving; undisturbed. 

He swallowed hard, finger tapping the trigger as the curtain gently swayed out of the way, another crack of lightning illuminating the window where the pallid gray face of an angel stared back at him from the garden, her body a flowing robe, carved from cement, eroded and cracked from a lifetime of weathering the unrestrained storms of the countryside.

Damien took a deep breath, trying to get his heart rate under control. He put the gun back into his waistband, taking a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“You’re being paranoid, you fucking—“

Without warning, the door behind him flew open. Damien felt himself being grabbed by the shoulders and yanked into the room behind him, the door slamming shut, muffling the last of his screams.

From the garden, the angel looked on. Eyes without irises gazing complacently at the door, the hallway silent once again. If she hadn’t seen him there before, his presence likely would’ve gone unnoticed by the others, and he would’ve only been a faint memory lost in time just as those who walked the halls before him had been. And though the windows had opened with a voracious slam, now they closed with a gentle click, the curtains sighing in response as they danced one final time before floating to a standstill, the low growl of thunder humming them back to sleep.

********  
BRIAN  
********

“Who the fuck still gets their family painted?” Brian sneered, looking up at a massive portrait of Vincent Balthuman sitting in a great, throne-like chair, Quincey standing behind him, one hand in his pocket, the other on one of the intricate golden spindles on the chair, a busty blonde woman, likely his trophy of the time, standing next to Quincey, her hand on Vincent’s shoulder.

For a moment, Brian felt captivated by the photo—the glint of mischief in Vincent’s eyes. It wasn’t until he heard what sounded like a piano key being gently struck that he turned his head toward the great room at the end of the long hallway.

He stood for a moment, listening. Surely he hadn’t heard that. It was probably just his mind playing tricks on him. He was just about to look back up at the painting when he heard it again—the distinct sound of a key being tapped on a piano; this time a little louder.

“Ohhh. You’re a bold fucker, aren’t you?” Brian smirked, pulling his pistol. He tread down the hallway gently, careful to step on the runner to muffle the sound of his footsteps. He paused at the threshold of the great room, listening for movement. 

Nothing.

Silence.

Brian’s brow furrowed, puzzled by that. Stealthily, he entered the great room, unsettled by scene laid out in front of him:

Several pieces of furniture were scattered out before him, all covered by white drop cloths. Somewhere in the room, a grandfather clock ticked away, the pendulum swinging to and fro. The floor shone beneath his feet, a clean black marble illuminated by a flash of lightning.

Nearby, he heard the tell tale swish of fabric as someone moved among the haphazardly organized pieces of furniture before the room fell silent again.

“He’s hiding.” Brian thought to himself. “Probably scared shitless.”

He smirked, reaching out, hand clutching the white drop cloth in front of him as he called out in a singsongy voice,

“Where are you, little rabbit?”

He yanked the cloth away with an alarming,

“HERE!”

Dropping the cloth to the ground. An antique chaise lounge sat before him, golden woodwork and deep crushed burgundy velvet lining the cushions. He smirked, laughing deviously at the game at hand. Another streak of lightning lit up the room.

“I’m going to find you.” Brian sang as he reached our, clutching the drop cloth in front of him, and yanked it away to reveal a great chair, similar to the one Vincent was sitting in in the family portrait.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the drop cloth next to him move, but only just barely. Brian grinned. Clearly, he had the upper hand. He took a heavy step, relishing the booming sound it made on the marble, reveling in the delectable fear he must’ve instilled in whoever was under that drop cloth. 

“Little rabbit.” Brian called out, dragging out the ‘a’ sound in rabbit, taking another heavy step toward the drop cloth as he paused in front of it, fingers gently touching the sheet. 

He listened.

Beneath the drop cloth, he heard erratic breathing, the sound of a terrified person trying to keep his breathing under control as Brian pushed in on the cloth, listening to that breathing coming in gasps, trembling at a staccato pace. Brian leaned in toward the breath, whispering,

“Found you.” 

And he tore off the drop cloth with an accomplished grin, letting it fall to the ground. But as it fell, his brows furrowed in confusion because beneath that cloth was

Nothing.

No furniture.

No statue.

No clock.

Nobody.

Nothing.

“Then how—“ Brian stopped, distinctly remembering a shape beneath the cloth as his heart lurched in his chest.

“How—“ he felt his mouth grow dry, recalling the unmistakable breathing coming from beneath the drop cloth. He backed away slowly.

A piano key rang out in the silence. Brian’s head jerked in the direction of the sound. A shadow was hunched over the keys, long, spindly fingers dragging across the keys in an unhurried pace as he watched the figure straighten, head turning slowly to look at him, horrific hollowed eyes staring at him as he stumbled backward, falling to the ground with a deafening thud, his gun skittering across the floor, and the shadow slowly standing from the piano.

Brian scrambled up, sprinting down the hall away from the figure. He opened the door to the room at the furthest end of the hall, slamming it and locking it behind him, drowning himself in pitch darkness.

Slowly, he backed away, listening to the sound of footsteps approaching and a high voice calling out,

“Little rabbit.”

Brian put his hand over his mouth, trying as hard as he could to snuff out the sound of his panicked breathing. He looked beneath the door where the blue light of the night sky shone. He paused, seeing the shadow halt in front of the door. 

Though he couldn’t see it, he heard the knob slowly turning, the soft metallic shriek indicating resistance from the lock. Brian sat in the silent darkness for a moment more, waiting with bated breath as the figure stood at the door, trying once more to open it.

Then, just as silently as he came, the figure went, retreating down the hallway. Brian sighed silently in relief, sinking gently down to the floor. He reached into his pocket for his phone, wanting to call the others. To warn them.

The screen turned on, a harsh blue light against the darkness and Brian jumped as a gaunt face sat staring at him, hollows for eyes, leaning in over the screen, dark lips curling into a sinister smile as the figure whispered,

“Found you.”

Somewhere in the great room, a grandfather clock ticked, the heavy golden pendulum swinging back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Before easing 

Gently.

To a standstill.

*********  
TORA  
*********

Tora turned the corner to the hallway, carpeted with damask red flooring. He sighed at the sight of the seemingly endless amount of rooms that he would be forced to search.

“Of course he would have a god damn thousand rooms.” Tora complained. He reached for the handle of the first door, pushing it open and pointing his gun into the room, flicking the light on. He entered the room to see a giant four poster bed in the center of the room, soft cashmere sheets and a silk comforter adorning the bed.

He searched beneath the bed, pulling up the intricate bed skirt, behind the bedroom door, and in the closet, between the rows of designer clothes, finding nothing. A low rumble of thunder shook the floor a bit, and Tora backed out of the room, turning off the light and gently shutting the door.

He turned to move to the next room and paused, his breath catching. At the end of the hall stood a figure: her body was draped in a sheer, white fabric that fell over her curves in gentle waves. Her pale skin was exposed beneath the fabric, barely covered by a gauzy bodice. Her shoulders and neckline were exposed, dark brown locks of her cascading over her shoulders in a wild mess of curls, deep, chocolate doe eyes staring straight ahead at him. 

“Jesus Christ, Bobby. Ya scared the fuck out of me.” Tora sighed. Poppy didn’t move. She simply stared, unmoving. Tora’s brow furrowed.

“What the hell are ya doing here? Are you crazy breaking into Vincent’s place like this?” Tora growled. She was lucky that Vincent sent him and not someone else. Otherwise, she’d probably be dead by now, and that thought made him feel absolutely sick to his core.

“Poppylan?” He called out. Poppy turned mechanically, slowly walking down the hallway to the right.

“Poppy. Wait!” Tora yelled, running down the hall toward her, her gown flowing out in an ethereal wave of fabric behind her as she rounded the corner. He flew around the corner like a shot, finding the hall empty, a long line of darkness, windows, and doors. 

“Tora.” His name was a whisper on the wind. Her voice echoing somewhere in the darkness. He felt the hairs on his arms stand on end as he moved slowly down the hall, pausing in front of the first door and throwing it open, senses completely alert. A cold, dark room greeted him, a shadow moving just out of the corner of his vision. He whirled, trying to catch sight of the shadow, but again finding an empty hall.

“What the fuck is going on?” He whispered, cocking the gun. He moved to the next room, throwing open the door, flicking on the light, eyes scanning the room. The closet door slowly closed, a barely audible

Click

Sounding in the room. Tora paused at the threshold, staring at the closet door. He hadn’t ever been intimidated by anything, much less a crazy little hamster doing dumb shit on Halloween night like the mischief maker she was, but something unnerved him about the way she was acting. It wasn’t like her.

He took one step into the room toward the closet door. 

“This isn’t funny anymore, Bobby.” He called out sternly, the edge of fear in his voice barely there, but still apparent. He heard her giggle gently from behind the closet door. 

“What? Are we in middle school now?” He grinned, the sound of her giggle placating that growing dread for a moment. 

“Listen, if ya wanted to play seven minutes in heaven, there’s a perfectly good bed right there.” He smiled. He listened for the sound of her outraged outburst, but instead received silence. 

“Bobby?” He called out into the quiet room. His heart raced as he approached the closet door. He paused, putting his ear against the cool door, listening. From behind the door, he heard the slight movement of hands touching the door, an ear being pressed against the door about level with his chest, and a whispered, 

“Tora.” 

Crept through the crevices of the door. Tora put his hand on the handle, a freezing bit of metal in his palm. Gently, he twisted it, and carefully opening it. Lining the massive closet were elegant gowns in various luxury fabrics. In jewel tones and glittering colors meant to catch the eye, beautiful in their own right. 

But something 

Someone 

Was noticeably not present amongst the designer gowns. 

“Poppylan.” Tora whispered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow move across his vision again, and this time, a much more audible slam of the French doors leading to the balcony caused him to whirl toward the door, a bright flash of light bathing the room in a blinding white light flooding the room. Tora blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting to the bright light. 

And there she was.

Standing on the railing.

Her back to him, gauzy fabric blowing in the wind, soaked hair plastered to her face, bare feet standing on the balcony railing, looking out into the storm.

“Poppy. What are you doing?” That sane frightened edge had returned to his voice. Slowly, she looked over her shoulder at him, a silent serenity in her eyes, an ease and peacefulness in her smile.

She moved one foot forward, dangling it over the edge.

“Don’t do that!” Tora roared, lunging forward.

“Don’t.” Poppy’s head snapped over her shoulder at him. He froze in place.

“Why are you doing this?” He called out to her.

“You wanted me to.” She gently told him.

“No! Why would I want that?” He called out to her, a panic rising in his chest.

“Because.” She smiled. “Well. Wouldn’t it be easier?”

“What?” He tried to shout over the sound of the storm that had picked up, Poppy wobbling against the wind.

“If we never met.” She told him. “And I didn’t exist.” 

“You’re not making sense. Just—come down. We can figure this out.” He called out to her. Poppy’s shoulders sagged a little. 

“I complicate things, don’t I?”

“You don’t.” He inched closer to her. “You don’t!”

“Isn’t that why you left? Why you decided to cut ties with me?” She cocked her head gently to the side.

“No. I wanted to—I needed to keep you safe.” He called out. “Please don’t do this, Poppylan.”

“Why not?” She blinked over his shoulder at him. He pressed his lips together, hair whipping viciously around his face, thankful for the rain that hid the tears streaming down his face.

“Because.” He paused, and she stared at him expectantly, a sad smile playing on her lips. She turned back over her shoulder, body leaning out toward the cement below. “I love you!”

She stopped, turning back to look at him again.

“I love you.” He said it again gently. 

“I know.” She smiled again. “That’s why I have to do this.”

And at that, she closed her eyes and leaned forward, body falling over the edge. Tora let out an earth shattering scream, and he lunged forward, the gauze on her dress slipping through his fingers as she peacefully plummeted to the ground below.

He leaned over the railing, tearing at his hair, sinking to his knees in agony.

“Bro.” 

A voice echoed somewhere in time.

“Bro!”

Tora’s eyes snapped open, the heart of the club still beating around him, pulsing with life as Damien and Brian stared down at him with a worried expression.

“Dude.” Damien sighed in relief. “You were like—yelling.”

Tora sat up, blinking a few times, his eyes catching the fallen angel from his spot in the VIP Lounge. Damien glanced over his shoulder and shivered.

“That thing gives me the creeps.” He told him. “Legit. It terrifies me.”

Brian nodded, glancing over at the crowd.

“Wanna talk creepy?” He motioned toward the dance floor where a figure moved emotionlessly through the crowd of glittering costumes, makeup creating the illusion of hollowed out eyes as the Halloween party raged on.

“Bro. You’re still afraid of ghosts? Shit doesn’t exist.” Damien snickered at him. 

“Better than being afraid of angels.” Brian glared at him.

“Dude...have you EVER seen Dr. Who? You’d understand if you did.” Damien shivered again. Damien and Brian glanced over at Tora, who looked back at them emotionlessly.

“Pretty sure Big Bro doesn’t even know what fear is because he’s not afraid of anything.” Brian turned away, sipping his drink. Tora turned his attention to Poppy, who was leaning against the bar, sipping her cherry vodka sour, the little glittering silver halo wriggling a little above her head, silvery white wings gently swaying behind her, gauzy white robes falling gently over her curves. Her eyes flicked toward him, meeting his, and she smiled at him.

“Yeah.” Damien agreed. “Nothing at all.”


	8. The Goods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A must convince B to do something they don’t want to do. C helps or hinders.

“For once, I’m going to pull rank on you.” Quincey looked at Tora dead in his eyes, and Tora smirked at him wryly,

“You? Ya gonna pull rank on ME?”

Quincey didn’t smile. He didn’t look even remotely amused.

“You think I’m joking?” Quincey actually sounded agitated at this point, and Tora’s smirk morphed into a thin, annoyed line. He sighed heavily, snatching his jacket off of the table with a heftily moody,

“Fine.”

“Don’t mess this up.” Quincey warned him.

“Ah, fuck off.” Tora growled, throwing the door open, stomping out, and slamming it shut behind him.

*****

It wasn’t like it bothered him to do it. In fact, he actually WANTED to do it, but actually getting around to it was the tough part because there were so many different factors involved.

“Did ya get it?” Tora barked into the phone between clamped teeth holding a cigarette in place. He was nervous, and his nerves meant that this was about the third cigarette that he’d had in quick succession.

“Yeah. It’s secured.” Brian told him over the phone. Tora blew a plume of smoke out the window into the late night air, tapping the excess ash outside of the window onto the ground. He glanced up at the old apartment building, staring at the single golden light glowing in the window.

“Sending you my location.” Tora said, then swiftly pulled the phone away from his ear, hanging up the phone and sending Brian his location.

“How the fuck am I supposed to get in without being noticed?” Tora sighed, staring at the high wall in front of him and the guard’s box just beyond the gate. It was going to be a hell of a climb, but it wasn’t anything he hadn’t done before. The problem was if he got caught, he would have to figure out how to deal with the problem without making a scene.

The headlights of an old Corolla pulling up behind him caught his attention. The door to the Corolla swung open and Brian stepped out, scanning the area. He stopped outside of Tora’s window, hands in his pockets producing a small box, which he handed to Tora.

“I don’t usually ask questions, but—“ Brian sheepishly began.

“Yeah. And don’t fuckin’ start today.” Tora snapped.

“Yeah. Right, big brother. Sorry.” Brian muttered, scurrying back to his car and taking off.

“Little shit.” Tora grumbled petulantly flicking the finished cigarette out the window. Tora got out of the car, approaching the gate and stared at the guard box until the guard looked up. Seeing Tora’s less than friendly expression, Tora saw the guard reach toward the phone for a moment before ultimately deciding to head out of the box and approach the gate.

“Remember me?” Tora asked, snatching his shirt through the gate. 

“What do you want?” The guard’s voice trembled. Tora smiled at him wryly, releasing him, and saying,

“Let me in here. You know why I’m here.”

For a moment, the guard considered turning him away, but, thinking better of it, he opened the gate for him. Tora sighed inwardly, thankful his instincts were right about how to handle the situation as he took the steps one at a time. All he had to do was make it to the door, drop off the goods, and then turn around and leave and he was home free.

He paused on the landing, staring down the decrepit hallway toward the target’s door. His feet padded down the hallway, careful not to make a sound as his ears strained to make out any sounds that might indicate someone exiting the apartment. It seemed unlikely they would be leaving with how late it was.

Finally, he made it to the door, pausing for just a moment. Carefully, he put the package down, and just as he was turning to leave, the sound of the door unlocking forced him to freeze in place.

“Fuck.” He whispered to himself, his heart lurching in his chest. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

For a moment, he considered running—sprinting down the hall as fast as he could, but he knew it was useless. He was caught, and he knew it.

“Tora?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, making a mental note to beat the shit out of Quincey the next chance he got. He knew there was no getting out of it, so, rather than fighting back, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down in shameful silence.

“Uh. What are you doing here?” Poppy leaned out the door, looking left and right down the hallway, still in her pink party dress from the birthday party, bare feet on the ground, looking at him in utter confusion. She had her purse in her hands and slippers on, indicating that she had intended to go somewhere quickly.

“I—well—“ Tora tried to find the words to say as he nodded down toward the box on the ground. Poppy looked at him for a moment, blinked, and then looked down.

“Oh.” She bent down and picked up the little box. “It’s so pretty!”

She turned the box in her hand, the brown parchment paper soft under her fingers, a little gauzy pink ribbon tied into a bow with a little gold heart charm attached to it.

“Is this from you?” She asked him. He felt his face burn a bright red, and he nodded frantically.

“Can I open it now?” She inquired. Again he nodded, feeling sick to his stomach, refusing to look at her.

Poppy pulled on the ribbon gently to make sure it didn’t tear. With slender fingers, she pulled up the triangular fold on the side of the package, carefully removing the paper to reveal a little black velvet box. Her lips curled into a smile and she looked up at him, her smile only widening as she noticed how flustered he was.

She put her fingers on either side of the velvet box and smoothly lifted the lid. Inside the box was a delicate silver necklace. The chain glittered under the fluorescent lighting of the hall, but against the lighting the pendant stood out most: a paper airplane made entirely out of little pavé diamonds hung from the pendant, a dizzying rainbow of color emitting from the flawless diamonds.

Poppy’s head snapped up at him, mouth falling open.

“Happy birthday, Bobby.” He finally looked up at her, smiling easily at her expression.

“Tora—“ she felt tears stinging her eyes again, her mind going back to the paper airplane he had tossed her on the train and the one he left her when they cut ties for the first time.

“It’s just—every time I make one of those paper airplanes, I think of you and I think about how every time I’ve ever given ya one, it’s been a bad experience.” He shuffled his feet, peeking up at her through his long lashes. “For once, I wanted it to be a good thing.”

Poppy bit her lip, trying to hold back the tears, but it was useless. The dam burst inside of her and she flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around Tora.

“I love it!” She cried, sobbing like a maniac. “Thank you!”

“Ya welcome, kid.” He patted her head awkwardly, looking around as a door cracked open and someone peeked outside to see what the ruckus was about.

“S—sorry.” Poppy sniffled. The neighbor glared at Poppy, and Tora turned to stare back at the neighbor, who, upon seeing Tora’s less than friendly face, promptly closed and locked the door.

“Better get back inside. ‘S not safe for you to be out at this time of night.” Tora told her, guiding her back toward the door. Poppy nodded, clutching her gift.

“Can you put it on for me?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at him. Tora sighed heavily, smiling down at her.

“Hand it here.” He told her. Delicately, she pulled the necklace out of the box handing it to him, then, pulling her hair out of the way, exposing her neck. Suddenly, Tora felt nervous again, the intimacy of the moment sneaking up on him.

He cleared his throat, gently moving aside another strand of hair that was in the way, fingers gently grazing her neck, lingering for just a moment before he swung the necklace over her neck, clasping it behind her.

She turned back around to face him,

“Well? What do you think?”

He stared at her for a moment, his heart slamming against his chest, feeling that same sense of intimacy creeping back up on him. He glanced down at the necklace, pride swelling up in his chest because she was wearing something HE gave her. She liked HIS gift.

“You look—“ he paused. She cocked her head expectantly, a nervous smile on her lips.

“Beautiful.” He finished. 

Beautiful. 

She was beautiful.

Poppy leaned forward, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“See you tomorrow?” She quietly requested. Tora nodded,

“Yeah, kid. See ya tomorrow.”

With that, she quietly shut the door. He waited a moment until he heard her footsteps retreat, and then he broke into a glorious smile. He walked with purpose down the stairs, taking them two at a time, before sprinting to his car, throwing open the door, and sitting in the seat, a smile plastered on his face.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he reached in, hopeful he would see her name. Instead, Quincey’s name blared at him annoyingly from the screen.

He put the phone up to his ear.

“Sooooo. How did it go?” Quincey asked knowingly.

“Ah, fuck off, Quincey.” Tora hung up the phone, tossing it into the seat next to him.

“Little shit.” Tora grumbled, sulking as he looked out the window. He found himself staring up at her window again, seeing her leaning on the balcony railing from where he was sitting. Absentmindedly, she fingered her necklace, a dreamy smile on her face.

For a moment, he just gazed at her, appreciating the gentle smile of her lips before he turned away, turned on the ignition, and drove off to go kill Quincey.


	9. The Game

A beats B at a video game

Tora breathed out slowly, his fingers hand gliding over the barrel of his gun, finger itching to pull the trigger. The room was quiet, but he knew someone was there. Slowly, he peeked out from behind the wall that led to the narrow alley—nothing. No one.

Suddenly a loud roar of sound erupted. Lights flashed red and a squeal of delight sounded as Poppy gleefully hopped out from behind a makeshift building, shrieking,

“Oh my god! I got you! I got you!”

Tora scowled at her, barking,

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m only frozen for the next ten seconds.”

Poppy froze, and a sinister smile spread across Tora’s face,

“Better run, little hamster.”

Just like that, the lights turned blue again, and Poppy rolled out of the way. Narrowly missing a laser to the chest. She bear crawled through the doorway and into the next room, giggling like a maniac, as Tora came barreling into the room after her, the syrupy smell in the room signaling that the fog machine had begun dispensing fog in the next room. 

Poppy breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of a room filled with fog. She was well aware that she was at a hefty disadvantage when it came to any sort of gun game with Tora, and she could use all the help she could get.

Carefully, she took a step back toward the door she had spotted before the smoke filled the room. Her ears strained for the sound of for any movement, but the gentle hissing of the smoke machine made it impossible to discern. 

Suddenly, she backed into something with a thud and whirled around, aiming two chest shots at—a wall. She sighed in relief, and turned around to find a bright red light in her face. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up and she screamed as Tora took a shot at her, her green vest blinking. He gave her a smug little “pfft” and disappeared into the next room as the lights in the room flashed red and a siren blared to signal that she had been shot.

“You little—“ Poppy seethed just as the room turned blue again and her vest went solid. Off she charged into the next room only to be immediately shot by Tora, who lounged lazily against the wall next to the door Poppy had just run through. Poppy stiffly turned toward him and glowered at his pompous attitude.

“Honestly.” He sighed. “Ya make it too easy. I swear, if this was ever real life, you’d—“

“Don’t. Say. Another. Word.” Poppy warned. Tora bit his lip to keep from laughing at her fury.

“Or what?” Tora sauntered toward her. “What are you gonna do?”

He approached her cautiously and saw her face running through a myriad of emotions as Poppy wondered if she should be angry, excited, or just plain aroused by him. Maybe all three?

“Well.” She breathed as he angled his face toward hers. She closed her eyes and leaned into him, feeling his lips brush hers...and then she pulled the trigger.

“HA!” She danced around the room impishly. “Take that, loser!”

“That’s cheating!” Tora roared, a trace of indignance in his tone.

“No.” Poppy purred sweetly. “That’s strategy.”

She made an L with her fingers on her forehead, sang,

“Ha ha haha ha.”

And off she skipped to the next room while the light continued to flash red. Something about her teasing him like that set his whole body on fire, and he felt his heart rate quicken at that. But even though he wanted to think about that more—really wanted to think about that more, he had a game to win, and he’d be damned if he was going to lose a shooting game to her.

He centered himself and went straight into clan mode, stealthily slinking into the main room again. He crouched in a corner.

“What do I know about her?” He mused to himself. “She’s clumsy. She’s innocent. She’s also...”

He glanced around the room, searching for something near him that would make a sound loud enough to spook a skittish hamster, and finding an small metal pipe that was loose from one of the makeshift bunkers. Carefully, he pulled it free, scanning the room for movement, and that’s when he saw her:

She was crouched behind a low wall, her high ponytail peeking out over the top of the wall. His lips curved into a devious smile, and he hurled the pipe over his shoulder like a grenade, the pipe hitting the wall she was hiding behind.

Poppy let out a gut wrenching scream and leapt up out of her spot as if a snake had struck at her. Tora aimed with a gentle ease and fired, hitting her dead on in the center of her chest. He saw her stumble a few times and hit the ground hard with a loud THUD!

“Aw fuck!” Tora leapt over the wall, sprinting toward where she fell to find Poppy clutching her knee and rolling side to side, her face cringing as she rolled around. “Are you alright?”

He let go of his laser gun, which dangled by a cord at his side, and he rushed to help her sit up.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked her, running his hand over her leg to try to assess the extent of her injury.

“It hurts right—“ she grimaced, her hands moving to her knee as she grimaced again.  
“Right—“

He leaned in closer to understand what she was saying.

“Here.” She whispered, and the lights in the room flashed red. Tora looked down at his chest, where Poppy had her laser gun pointed directly at his heart. His eyebrows lowered with in a dangerous curve of anger.

“Bobby, that is NOT—“

“Shot through the heart, and you’re to blame!” Poppy shot up out of his arms, and he crossed his arms over his chest glowering at her.

“Your tactics are cheap.” Tora sulked, pouting like a petulant child. Poppy pointed at him, pointing the gun at her mouth like a microphone and singing,

“You give love a bad name!”

“BOW BOW BOW BOW!” Poppy shouted an air guitar as she skipped away.

“Last kill wins.” A robotic voice announced over the speakers in the room. Tora gritted his teeth in annoyance at her stupid tactics, and calmed his heart rate down. Even though he knew now it was okay, he was still recovering from the thought that he had inadvertently hurt her.

Poppy saw him come in the room like a big angry bear, his chest puffed out, gun at his side, and for a moment, she felt herself swoon at the sight of him. He really was a beautiful sight to behold, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light of the room, muscles rippling below his olive green shirt, biceps straining against his shirt as he held the gun near his chest. She wanted to feel what it was like to be tangled in his arms. 

She shook her head to ward off those thoughts, only to realize that in all that time she had been lusting after him, he somehow managed to slip into the shadows and disappear. Poppy peaked around the corner, the room dangerously still and empty and she crawled toward the next bunker, scooting close to the wall as she peered through the little window, and that’s when she saw it—

A shadow slinking along the wall across the room, moving from bunker to bunker in quick, fluid movements. Her fingers gripped the window as she watched him work, impressed by his stealth and in awe at his ability. The shadow stopped, disappearing at the bunker in front of hers, but she failed to see the glowing red light that made him stand out like a sore thumb.

Suddenly from behind her, a voice blasted,

“I PLAY MY PART, AND YOU PLAY YOUR GAME!”

Poppy whirled around to see a glowing phone screen with the words “Slippery When Wet” in an image as she squeaked in terror and her vest blinked red, the sound of the siren blaring as the whole room flashed red, and that same robotic voice calmly announced over the intercom,

“Game over. Red team wins.”

Tora roared with laughter at Poppy’s near heart attack, and Poppy sank back against the wall, clutching her chest. Now it was her turn to pout like a petulant child.

“Alright, alright.” She sulked, standing up and storming out of the room to take her vest and gun off before depositing them back on their holding bar. 

“I won.” Tora bragged.

“I know.” Poppy rolled her eyes.

“Ya know what that means?” He nudged her with his elbow. She touched her chin with her index finger, pretending to think,

“I have no idea.”

“Ya owe me.” Tora reminded her. “And I’ve come to collect.”

Poppy stopped, crossing her arms,

“What do you want this time? More food?”

He motioned for her to come near him, and she stepped closer, leaning into him. His lips tickled her ear as he whispered,

“I want a lap dance from you.”

He knew for a fact that saying that would make her blush about as red as the room the two of them were in when someone got shot, but when he pulled back to smirk in her face, he saw a dead serious look in her eyes.

“That’s all?” Poppy smiled seductively. Tora’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at her saying that. She stepped forward, touching his chest with her fingers, biting her lower lip and staring up at him through her lashes.

Tora suddenly found himself absolutely lost in her eyes and unsure of what to do with himself with the way that she was looking at him and speaking to him. 

Poppy stood up on her tiptoes, leaned in, and froze inches away from his lips. Tora’s breath quickened, waiting for her to end the anxiety and take him with her, but instead, she brushed a peck against his lips, and he felt himself implode inwardly. 

Poppy turned away from Tora, giving him a come hither look, and he followed her like a sailor to a siren’s call out into the parking lot. He crushed his hands inside of his pockets, balling them into fists, fingernails digging into his palms as he fought to maintain control until he just couldn’t do it anymore.

The minute she reached to open the door of the red sports car that he drove, Tora took her by the arm, whirling her around, pressing her into the car, and kissing her. His fingers wove their way into her hair as he succumbed to the intensity he had been feeling from her all night.

“Do you know what ya do to me?” He growled between kisses. “When you touch me like that? And look at me like that? You have to know.”

And she did know. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she knew the outcome would be this way eventually. Her heart raced in her chest as his hands smoldered into her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

“I don’t want a fucking lap dance.” He told her at last. 

“No?” Poppy breathed. She could barely think, and hardly registered that he had said anything at all, because he lifted her up and plopped her on the hood of the car, hands roaming up her body, grabbing the back of her thighs and yanking her toward his body as he put his forehead to hers.

“No. I want something more.” He told her, lips working their way down her neck, and her heart lurched in her chest. She wasn’t ready. She knew she wasn’t ready, but why did it feel so good? The more she told herself she didn’t want it, the more her body told her she needed it.

“Tora, I—“ she sighed.

“Ya still have my ring?” He asked her.

“I—what?” Confusion and a haze of lust clouded her eyes as her brows furrowed and she stared at him. 

“My ring. Ya still have it?” He repeated. Poppy nodded, pulling out her clutch, opening her wallet, and producing the ring.

“Didn’t expect ya to have it on you.” He smiled.

“Oh, I always do.” Poppy shrugged, and her eyes widened at the admission. Tora’s smile widened at that.

“‘S that so?” He teased her. “Do ya keep in that wallet?”

“It’s the safest place for it.” She told him. Tora took his hands out of his pockets and held his fist out to her. She put her hand out, and a fine silver chain unraveled from his fist, dangling from his fingertips and glinting in the moonlight.

“Well. Now you can wear it.” He told her. “Keep it closer to you. It’s safer that way anyway.”

He took the ring from her hand, lacing it through the chain. Poppy hopped off the car and turned around, while he fastened the chain around her neck. When she turned back to face him, she saw a glimmer in his eyes.

“It’s—“ she searched for the right words.

“Perfect.” He finished for her, and she nodded. “Besides, it looks better on you than it does on me.”

“True.” Poppy conceded, and Tora yanked her closer to him, growling,

“Cocky little—“

And Poppy silenced him again with a small step closer, a brush of the lips, and a finally drinking in what it felt like to be tangled in those delicious biceps.


	10. Here Comes Santa Claus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For girlmundy

Poppy and Erdene cocked their head to the side, scrutinizing relentlessly the red velvet suit and the fur lined collar and boots.

“I mean, it’s—“ Poppy waved her hand around searching for the correct word. She stepped forward to examine the intricate gold buttons and the black belt with a golden clasp.

Erdene crossed her arms, a smirk playing at her lips, and Poppy bit her nails to stifle the laugh she knew was about to erupt from her lips.

“You sure it’s not Satan Claus?” At her smug expression and the smooth delivery of that line, Tora scowled.

“Fuck this. I’m not doing it.” He stalked off, but Poppy ran after him, grabbing at his arm.

“No! Don’t go. Please?”’ She tugged on his sleeve like a child asking for one more piece of candy. He turned his steely gaze on her, golden eyes baring into hers, and he felt all of that resolve and stubbornness melt away at the sight of that sweet, pleading face.

“Please?” She whispered, clasping her hands together in a begging motion. “There are so many people counting on me for this.”

He sighed a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his left hand, putting his hand on his hip with his right hand.

Poppy leapt forward, hugging him and squealing,

“Oh, thank you! Thank you!”

Tora felt a smile tug at the corner of his lip when he looked down at her, until he caught sight of Erdene giving him a knowing stare and his petulant scowl returned.

“I’ll see ya there.” He muttered, storming out of the room.

Poppy stared after him dreamily, a goofy grin on her face, until she too caught sight of Erdene’s knowing stare.

“What?” She balked, her eyes darting around the room. “It’s for a good cause. We really need more money to be able to host a party that meets Quincey’s ridiculous standards.”

“Yeah. You keep telling yourself that’s the reason you got him involved.” Erdene nodded.

“It is!” Poppy all but shouted, and Erdene’s eyebrows flew up, her smile widening.

“Sure.” She turned on her heel, walking out of the room, Poppy stumbling to keep up with her.

“Wait! Erdene! It is!” She cried, falling into stride with her.

“Yep. Totally believe you.” Erdene sarcastically sighed.

She didn’t. She didn’t believe her at all.

***

The sounds of children laughing filled the air outside of the venue, the crunch of snow and the swish of moving feet the soundtrack of the Evening of the Winter Solstice that Goldfish was throwing in honor of Q.B. Noyouko. 

The hum of a large crowd milling around the lavishly decorated ballroom. Strands of twinkling lights hung from the faux snow lined ceiling rafters, shimmering snowflakes hung at various heights. The walls were draped with shimmering, pearlescent white fabric pulled back with glittering silver ribbons. Decadent sweets lined the room along with a full service bar at the front of the room, the bartender a ridiculously toned man with close cut ebony hair, a tight silvery shirt that was so sheer you could practically see through it, and shimmering silver pants. 

Poppy could tell that Quincey had definitely dressed the workers in the room because they all wore similar sheer tops and pants, but the women, who were basically supermodels, had a glittering silver bustier beneath their shirts, silver glitter on their eyelids, pale silvery blue lipstick adorned their lips, their hair a lovely wave down their backs, pulled back on one side with a glittering silver snowflake pin. They walked around with frosted silver trays, filled with the signature Noyouku Winter Freeze, an icy blue drink concoction with a sugared rim and an editable holly candy adorning the rim.

At the front of the room, several high silver tables were set up, candles flickering in the center of the table, little round vases of white roses with pearls between each rose and silver glitter dusted on the petals, and white snowflake mints adorned the center of the tables. Silver high backed bar stools with white faux fur seats waited under the table, inviting the guests to sit.

In front of those tables was a lavish, shimmering white stage with blue glittering curtains pulled back and dancing projections snowflakes on the stage and back wall.

Naturally Quincey wouldn’t leave his hosts high and dry. He had outfitted Poppy in a sparkling silver dress with a neckline that plunged deep enough to show off her assets, and with a leg slit high enough to appreciate her toned legs. He had gifted her with a diamond snowflake necklace for becoming his editor...and for taking care of his best friend.

“Miss Editor!” Quincey gleefully smiled, taking two of the icy blue concoctions off of the trays and taking one of them to Poppy. He ushered her to the front of the room where a reserved table waited for the two of them, and plopped her down in a seat directly in front of the stage.

“Quincey! It looks great in here!” Poppy merrily greeted him, accepting the drink from him.

“Doesn’t it?” Quincey winked. “I have been known to throw some pretty fabulous parties.”

“So I’ve heard.” Poppy smiled, sipping on her drink, then looking at it with a delighted grin and continuing to sip on it.

“Though I am a bit worried.” Quincey admitted, his smile fading.

“Worried? About what?” Poppy turned her body to face Quincey, reaching out to give his arm a comforting touch.

“Poppy, this party is pretty extravagant. I don’t mean to be impolite or sound prudish, but are you sure your company can afford this? I know you’re just a startup company, and I don’t expect more than what you can give.” He told her.

“I had a feeling you would be anxious, but don’t worry. I have a plan!” Poppy seemed absolutely delighted. “We are doing a fundraiser tonight.”

“Really?” Quincey seemed intrigued, though he had to admit, a little unsure of her fundraising strategies since they weren’t quite as...daring as his usually were.

Quincey’s thoughts trailed back to the last delicious fundraiser and a lovely Latin male dancer with a shimmering red banana hammock, devil horns, and a poker that he so deviously used to—

“Quincey?” Poppy’s eyes were rife with concern. Quincey blinked a few times before smiling back at her, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“Can I have a quick word with you?” Erdene asked Quincey, tugging on his arm.

“Everything okay?” Poppy asked. “Need me to come wi—“

“No!” Erdene answered a little too quickly, and Poppy narrowed her eyes in suspicion. Quincey, upon catching on to the fact that Erdene was up to no good nodded gleefully, yanking Poppy’s empty glass out of her hand, piping up,

“Here! Have another!”

Shoving a full glass in Poppy’s hand, linking arms with Erdene and sauntering with her to a darkened corner of the room to collude in basically no secrecy.

“Okay, so Poppy’s fundraising idea sucks.” She told Quincey quickly.

“Why?” Quincey arched an eyebrow suspiciously.

“Let’s just say that she thought dressing Tora up as Santa and inviting cute children to come and sit on his lap as if they wouldn’t be terrified of his Satan-ass face was the way to win over a crowd of mid-forties women who are here because they secretly put your books in their grocery cart along with a cucumber or two.” Erdene pushed out all in one breath. Quincey’s eyebrows flew up in shock and amusement at her bold statement.

“Touché.” Quincey agreed. 

“So let’s just say that I improvised last minute without telling either Miss Editor or Satan Claus.” Erdene turned over her shoulder grabbing a drink and sipping it conspiratorially. Quincey snorted at her calling Tora Satan Claus and shook his head,

“Ohhh, Miss Erdene. What HAVE you done?”

Erdene winked at him as the lights in the room all went out and a pleasant Christmas jingling caught the attention of the women in the back of the room, who all filed to the seats near the front of the room at the stage, polite chattering falling to a low whisper.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” The voice of God boomed, a deep velvety smooth tone that almost reminded Poppy, who had found herself alone at the front of the room, of Morgan Freeman. “I present to you the Evening of the Winter Solstice.”

Polite applause followed as the curtains were drawn, revealing a velvety blue throne in the center of the stage, a woodland winter wonderland theme in the background.

“Featuring Jolly old Saint Nicholas himself.” At the mentioning of his name, out stalked Tora in full Santa garb, obviously irritated, and much more obviously not jolly. He sulked, plopping himself on the seat and crossing his arms.

Poppy’s grin tightened, as the women in the room shifted uncomfortably in their seat, whispering about the angry Santa on the throne.

“As well as his lovely little helpers, the North Pole Elves.” Morgan Freeman smoothly announced. 

“Oh thank god.” Poppy was starting to sweat. At least the cute elves would save this disaster of a performance from the terrifying St. Nick on the stage. She took a sip of the blue drink, savoring the blue raspberry flavor as it tingled her tongue.

From the left and right side three elves sauntered out, their hands on their hips, and Poppy’s drink promptly exited out of her mouth through her nose and all over the table.

The women who were playing the North Pole Elves looked more like exotic pole dancing elves, hands on their hips, short leotards of a velvet forest green adorned their trim bodies, dipping low at their breasts and trimmed in fur. Bright red lipstick adorned those lips and teeth shimmered so bright white that Poppy almost squinted at the spectacular shade. Fishnet stockings and thigh high leather boots adorned their legs as they took their spots on either side of a grumpy Santa, who had very noticeably perked up at seeing his exotic dancers—or...helpers.

“Oh god! It burns!” Poppy winced through eyes tearing up, viciously grabbing around the table for a napkin, but unable to find anything but those stupid little snowflake mints, which she promptly dabbed her nose with. “It burns!”

“Tonight. Our lovely North Pole Elves would like to let you know that when Mrs. Claus is away, all the naughty little elves come out to play.”

A hum of amusement and cheering filled the building, buzzing with excitement as the opening chords of “Santa Baby.” Started to play.

Poppy was coughing at the table by this point, her face a beat red as a few tables cast concerned glances in her direction. The dancers at the stage shimmied, all surrounding Tora, one of them standing directly in front of him and bending over.

“Oh, Jesus.” Hyperventilating. Poppy was hyperventilating, and the helpful elf shook her butt and shimmied in front of Santa, sitting on his lap, caressing his face with short fur lined gloves as she gently unhooked the beard tied to his hat, while Tora was completely unaware that she had even done it. The beard fell away revealing his face, and the women in the room started fanning themselves and hooping and hollering at the sight of him.

One on each side, the elves led Tora down to the center of the stage where they twirled around him, another elf taking his hat and putting it on her own head and winking at the crowd where more cheers and applause erupted. Tora glanced down at Poppy who appeared to be having a semi-heart attack and smirked at her.

“Karma’s a bitch.” He snickered to himself. “That’s what she gets for using her cute little ass to get me to play this asshole.”

Before he could think on that further, one of the elves pressed herself to him, smoothing out his long black hair, hands roaming body down toward his belt as the other elves began fanning themselves, popping their hips out to the side as the song played. Deftly, she unhooked the belt, flinging it off as the women in the crowd went absolutely berserk.

Poppy felt her mouth grow dry at the sight of that, and even more so as the elf gently turned Santa to the side and playfully whipped him with her belt as the other elves put a hand up to cover their mock shocked expressions.

The elves sauntered with Tora back to the throne where they sat him down, a brunette elf with a voluptuous body and killer curves straddling his lap as the other elves put a foot up on the throne, popping their chest with the beat of the song.

The elf currently sitting on Tora’s lap slid her hands along the Santa outfit, fingers wrapping around the buttons. She looked over her shoulder and yelled,

“Should I do it, ladies?”

And when the crowd of women screamed so loud Poppy thought the windows at the venue would shatter. The elf grinned and began the slow and deliberate process of unbuttoning his top, getting off his lap, and taking Tora by the hand to the edge of the stage.

Suddenly, a mass swarm of women rushed the stage.

“Oh, it looks like there are lots of naughty little elves in the house tonight. Want a sample of Mr. Claus’ gifts?” Morgan Freeman crooned, and the women went berserk, reaching out to touch him, but just barely grazing the velvet on his outfit.

“Then, let’s auction him off!” Morgan Freeman boomed.

“I’m sorry. What?” Poppy seethed, heat filling her face and anger boiling her blood. She whirled over her shoulder to find Erdene, who was grinning like a fool near the bar, until she spotted Poppy’s scalding stare, squeaked,

“Oh shit.”

And promptly hid behind Quincey, who seemed startled. When he spotted Poppy’s angry glare, he roared with laughter.

But before we do. Let’s see the gifts that Mr. Claus has been working so hard on.” Morgan Freeman purred. At that, the brunette elf slowly shimmied his top off, and upon seeing Santa’s gifts, the women swooned and started jumping up and down like they were at a concert.

“Bring it over here, baby!” One of the women catcalled. Tora smirked, a dark gleam in his eyes as he crossed his arms, flexing his biceps much to their insane delight.

Poppy’s face burned a bright red because she felt his eyes burning into her, but she refused to look at him straight on, so instead she stared at his the tattoos on his arms, squirming uncomfortably in her seat.

“I’d say this is a success.” Erdene pat Quincey on the shoulder.

“It’s safe to come out now.” Quincey grinned. “His shirt is off. She’s pretty heavily distracted.”

Erdene peered around Quincey’s shoulder, seeing Poppy delightfully distracted.

“Ohhh I’m in for it tonight.” Erdene sighed. Quincey nodded thoughtfully, his attention trained on Poppy as yet another devious smile spread across his lips. 

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” Quincey inquired. Suddenly the room erupted in chaos and Quincy turned back to the stage where Tora was covering his Christmas tree and ornaments with a Santa hat, looking absolutely dismayed that the pants had even come off to begin with and, surveying the situation, Quincey shrugged at the fact that Tora hasn’t bothered to notice that his pants were tear away pants. Then, he turned to the table in the front where Poppy was relentlessly pounding back Noyouku Winter Freezes like they were going out of stock, which they very well might the way she was drinking them.

“Alright, ladies. Let’s return to your seats. My little North Pole helpers, if you would, bring the bidding signs out to all of our other naughty little elves in the room.” Morgan Freeman announced, and the busty ladies disappeared momentarily behind the stage, returning with their bright smiles, little auction signs, and grins of appreciation.

“Since this is a fundraiser,” Morgan Freeman announced as the women wove through the crowd, handing out signs, “things will be done a little differently. If you raise your sign, you are committing to give that amount whether you win or you lose. Please do not bid unless you are willing to part with that money regardless.”

Poppy sagged back in her chair, glaring at Tora on the stage, who had managed to get his pants back on and was lounging in the chair, waiting for the madness to end.

“Well, if it’s for a good cause.” The women at the table next to Poppy giggled like a bunch of school girls, each of them pulling out their checkbooks.

Right. 

A good cause.

“Or a good lay.” Poppy grumbled under her breath becoming even more angry at the prospect of watching other women put their hands all over him or worse—actually do...that with him. Suddenly, she felt immensely saddened at the fact that she would never be able to afford him to keep him from those other women anyway. Besides, what did she really have to give him anyway?

“Let’s start the bidding off at $100.”  
Morgan Freeman called out. It was silent for less than a minute before the bidding erupted, signs flying up as the elves passed by, taking donations from those not participating in the auction and stood by for those that were outbid.

Quincey crossed his arms from the back of the room, surveying the situation in the front of the room.

“She looks...” Erdene told him, the bidding war for Tora’s affections raging on.

“Let me put it this way.” Quincey told her. “How would you feel if you really cared about someone, and you were forced to watch as other women fondled him in front of you because he was whored out for a good cause?”

Erdene blinked a few times at the explanation and then absolutely deflated.

“You’re right.” Erdene sighed. “I didn’t think about it like that.”

“Hey. I know you were trying to do a good thing, and judging by all of this” Quincey motioned out to the room where women were basically fighting each other tooth and nail for a night with Tora. “I’d say you were very successful.”

The higher the bidding rose, the more Poppy felt a lump rising in her throat as she tried to drink away the ridiculous onslaught of jealous tears.

“Five. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars!” A woman shrieked, and everyone in the room gasped and murmured—some jealously, some appreciatively.

From the stage, Tora’s eyes were on Poppy’s watching her sag into the table, swaying a little from the alcohol. What had started out as good hearted fun had turned into something neither of them wanted, but had no way of escaping.

As the elf approached the woman to finalize the payment, a voice boomed from the back of the room,

“One million dollars.”

Everyone turned to look at the voice in shock, including a now salty woman who sulked in her chair. Those delicious abs had been so close she could practically have washed her clothes on them using the saliva she’d drooled while fantasizing about him.

“I’d say we have a winner.” Morgan Freeman announced, and the women in the room politely applauded, sending snide glances and venomous glares toward the voice.

“And who may we congratulate?” Morgan Freeman inquired as all eyes turned to the back of the room where Quincey was standing with Erdene, who gaped at him in shock.

“Poppylan Wilkes.” Quincey merrily announced. “Happy belated birthday, Miss Editor.”

Quincey raised a glass toward Poppy as the elves surrounded her, and the women in the crowd politely applauded. Tora sat up in his throne, overwhelmingly thankful for Quincey right at that moment as the elves practically dragged Poppy out of her chair, up the stage, and pushed her headfirst into Tora’s lap.

Tora caught her, steadying her before she toppled over his knees, and pulling her up against his chest to keep her safe, their faces dangerously close to each other.

“Let’s have a round of applause for our very own Santa Claus and his lovely mistress for the night.” Morgan Freeman announced. Cheers, whoops, and hollers rose up from the crowd, and Tora pulled Poppy’s skirt down in the back to ensure it wasn’t showing anything.”

“And let’s have a round of applause for all of you because together, we raised a staggering three million dollars!” Morgan Freeman announced, and the crowd oohed and ahhed in impressed approval, the applause and cheers a deafening roar.

“Merry Christmas to all. And to all a good night.” Morgan Freeman announced as the curtain fell, drowning Poppy and Tora all alone in darkness, their ragged breathing leaving a repressed tension that hung between them.

“So,” Tora broke the silence. “Was this what you had in mind when you asked me to be Santa Claus?”

He smirked at her, that devastating grin that almost made Poppy implode to the point that she tried to stumble off of his lap, sighing,

“I can’t take this anymore.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, kiddo.” He grabbed, her, steadying her. “Talk to me.”

“Talk to you?” Poppy scoffed. “I can’t even look at you!”

Tora’s eyes darkened as he stared at her averting her eyes from him. He took his fingers, lifting her chin.

“I want you to look at me, though.” He softly told her. Poppy took in a deep shivering breath, eyes slowly finding his own.

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” She told him on the brink of tears. “You were just supposed to be Santa Claus with cute kids and presents and reindeer and everything. Not some male stripper turned prostitute.”

Poppy spat the last part out at him, and he raised his eyebrows at that, trying not to smile at her fury.

“Well,” he sighed. “I’m your prostitute for the night.”

Poppy’s mouth dropped open at that admission, and she stuttered,

“You little—I—“

But barely managed to get the words out before he stopped her, pulling her close, his body molding against hers, hands grazing her face, coiling one of her curls around his finger before running his fingers through her hair and kissing her.

She tasted like blue raspberry, sugar, and mint, an intoxicating mix that nearly sent him over the edge. He crushed her to him, and she wrapped her arms around him, the weight that she had been carrying on her shoulders dissolving one kiss, sigh, and touch at a time. She moved her body against his, getting up on her knees, needing to feel him more. His lips trailed down the V of her dress, and back up across her collar bone.

“Oh, my god.” He breathed, fingers exploring her body, daring to dip under the hem of her skirt, hitching it just a little higher each time. His fingers grazed down her arm, rows of chills and delicious shivers running across her body as she moaned softly against his touch.

The sound of laughter approaching brought an abrupt stop to the intensity of long awaited passions realized on a velvet blue throne. Poppy scrambled off of his lap, stiffly standing next to the throne Tora lounged in.

Quincey rounded the curtain, his gentle smile melting into a knowing smirk.

“Thank you, Quincey.” Poppy grinned. “I love my gift.”

“I know you do.” Quincey grinned, crossing his arms and, upon realizing what he had just said, Poppy’s eyes widened and her face burned scarlet.

“Erdene and I were just leaving and wanted to wish you an exceptional night.” Quincey told them, waving over his shoulder as he left. 

An uncomfortable silence settled between Poppy and Tora.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” Poppy nervously asked, breaking the silence.

“Hopefully you.” Tora deadpanned. Poppy leveled her gaze at him and Tora bit back a smile. If there was anything he lived for, it was making her absolutely embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“Sounds good to me.” Poppy shrugged, smiling over her shoulder and leaving Tora with a shocked stare on his face as she walked away.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.” He grumbled, scrambling off his throne to chase after the woman he desperately wanted for Christmas...in more ways than one.


	11. The Blunder Years

“Miss Editor!” 

Quincey was practically floating on delighted sparkles as he opened the door, his lovely manicured fingers resting on the door as he made a grand sweeping gesture to invite her inside of his apartment. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

Poppy adjusted her work bag on her shoulder as she headed through the door, and smiled,

“Well, you said it was really important and that it was work related too. How could I not come?”

Over Quincey’s shoulder, Poppy saw Tora’s head pop around the corner, eyes narrowed at the sound of her voice, just long enough for him to see her, look completely startled, and then fwip back into the room he was in.

“Please.” Quincey motioned to the dining table, leading her past the surprisingly basic living room and into the even more ordinary dining room, a simple maple wooden table and four maple chairs waiting to be utilized. Poppy set her bag down on the table, pulling the chair out and having a seat at the table.

Quincey disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with a few books in his hands, setting them on the table, and explaining,

“I think that one of the best ways to get to know someone is to understand their past, present, and future self. You get a feeling for the things they love that never left them, the things that made them who they are today, and the drive that keeps the fires of aspiration burning bright.”

“Very poetic!” Poppy complimented him, smiling with a tilt of the head. “What exactly are we looking at?”

Inside of Quincey, the little devil reared his cute little blonde head, peering over his devious plans with a quaint little heh heh heh.

“Yearbooks, of course!” He cheerfully grinned, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. Poppy raised her eyebrows in surprise, and he laughed at her reaction.

“Now, I know I may look like a dandy who only goes to private schools with all the rich boys and their tailored uniforms and fabulous cars and parties, which is absolutely true.” He told her. “But, I also attempted a year in public school to see how all of my ‘peers’ got along.”

“Oh! Isn’t that when you met Tora?” Poppy suddenly leaned forward, far more interested now in this little trips back to the past. The little devil in Quincey perked up even more, poking his little chibi head up over the scheme, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“Why, yes, Miss Editor! My, I see you’ve done your research.” He teased her, prodding her with his elbow, making Poppy blush a brilliant shade of crimson.

“Payback’s a bitch.” Quincey thought, recalling a certain someone who stole his pants one day in front of everyone. “Those were my favorite pants too.”

“Quincey, are you alright?” Poppy seemed concerned, glancing up at him as he sulked. His eyebrows flew up, and he waved off the suggestion that he wasn’t alright with a,

“Of course! Just thinking back on one of the worst days of my life.”

Poppy blinked a few times at that, and Quincey leaned forward, his hands brushing over the first yearbook, finding that dog eared page that he had strategically placed and cooing,

“Let’s start...here!”

The book fell open quickly, and Poppy leaned forward, her eyes scanning over the page before he saw her stop, her eyes widening as she found herself getting closer to the yearbook, her mouth twitching.

There in the yearbook was a picture of a very familiar young man, his stringy black hair hanging over one eye as he glared at the camera with charcoal rimmed golden eyes. Wide black gauges took up most of his earlobes and a spiked leather dog collar was situated around his neck. He wore a ridiculously flared pair of JNCO jeans with a studded black belt embellishing the top of the jeans and a wallet chain peeking out of his pocket. He flipped the bird to the photographer, his black painted nails on full display. But what struck her as even more hilarious was the black band t-shirt, which had the phrase BIGGUS DICKUS beneath a picture of a smirking Roman soldier with bleeding black guyliner. 

Tora poked his head around the corner at the sudden sound of silence, seeing Poppy intensely focused on a book at the table. Her head snapped up, and she lost her balance, falling forward onto the table, her body falling onto the yearbook with a quiet thud.

“Miss Editor! Are you okay?” Quincey rushed to help her up, her forehead now sporting a red mark where she had hit it on the table.

“Imfineneverbetter.” It came out all at once in a rush of embarrassment. “Never better!”

Tora smirked at her, heading past her and into the kitchen, grabbing an apple from the bowl and chomping down on it. He sauntered around the corner, leaning against it. Quincey shifted uncomfortably and Poppy bit her lip, refusing to look at Tora, whose eyes now darter back and forth between the two of them suspiciously. He pushed off of the counter, sauntering toward them, seeing Quincey’s hand slowly moving toward the open book in the middle of the table.

“Freeze.” Tora purred at him, and for a moment, Quincey considered his order before he let out a nervous,

“Uh heh heh.”

And snatched the book off of the table, the chibi devil inside of his head screaming,

“Abort! ABORT!”

“Give me the book, Quincey.” Tora stuck his hand out to Quincey, approaching the table, and Poppy leaned away from Quincey uncomfortably.

“It’s—I—she—“ Quincey struggled to find the words. Tora arched an eyebrow at his struggle, gesturing again for Quincey to give him the book.

“It’s a picture of Quincey.” Poppy hurriedly told him, and Quincey nodded so hard that he practically bounced up and down in his chair.

“And I’m just so—so—“ Quincey waved a hand around, searching for the right words.

“Embarrassed because he looks ridiculous.” Poppy explained.

“I do NOT!” Quincey spat indignantly, nostrils flaring as he turned his ire on Poppy, who shrugged. Tora glanced back and forth at the two of them again, assessing their lie as he slowly took a bite of the apple again.

After what seemed like an eternity, he said,

“Don’t know why the fuck ya still care what ya looked like back then.”

“Pot to kettle.” Quincey murmured.

“What?” Tora snapped.

“Practical!” Quincey relayed a little too loud, making Poppy jump in her seat.

“The fuck does that even mean?” Tora sighed.

“It means I looked practical not ridiculous.” Quincey huffed.

“If ya call a purple leopard jacket and white scarf thing practical—“ Tora rolled his eyes.

“Ascot!” Quincey growled, and Tora bit back a laugh at that.

“Wh—what?” Tora smirked, that self-control and brooding facade starting to crack at Quincey’s growing wrath.

“The white scarf thing is called an ascot, you uncultured swine!” Quincey raged. Tora stopped smiling, and Quincey suddenly realized he had probably crossed a line with the name calling. Poppy’s gaze darted back and forth between the two of them furiously, mainly focusing on Tora as she gently said,

“Tora...”

It was a warning, but it fell on deaf ears because Tora launched himself at Quincey, who shrieked like a little girl, toppling over the chair as Tora hit him full force, putting him in a headlock and ruffling his hair. Quincey shrieked,

“Stop! You monster! My hair was perfect!”

Tora grinned, backing off when his attention suddenly caught the yearbook, which was lying face down. He snatched it up, scanning the page when his eyes suddenly fell on the damning picture.

“NO!” Quincey screamed with dramatically Hayden Christensen-esque bravado, but it was too late. He looked over at Poppy, who had situated herself next to him, glancing down at the picture again, and then turned his heavily annoyed glare back at Quincey.

“So, tell me,” Poppy leaned in, pointing at the picture, a devious smile appearing on her face, “how long did it take to perfect the raccoon look? Was it a quick process or did it take some time? Or—“

He turned his glare to Poppy, whose smile faded and mind suddenly stopped worked mid-sentence.

“About as long as it took your cute ass to come up with that remark.” He smirked at her. “And about as long as it’ll take ya stop bein’ mad at me when I do this.”

He leaned forward, capturing her lips with his own, letting the kiss linger uncomfortably long for Quincey, who cleared his throat and cheerfully announced,

“I’ll just see myself out.”

To which Tora responded by chucking the yearbook at him without looking and putting his arms around Poppy to pick up where they left off before they were so rudely interrupted.


	12. Be a Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This CCC is different than the others. There’s no romance here, but let’s see if you can guess what Disney movie it’s based on.

Be a Man

Poppylan collapsed onto her futon mat on the ground of her tent, absolutely exhausted from yet another grueling failure of a day of training with a long, defeated sigh. It had been two long weeks since she had left the quiet comfort of her country home to enlist in the military. Two long weeks since the emperor’s advisor had ridden into town on his magnificent steed, a strong, lean black Malikun stallion with bright eyes who had the absolute displeasure of having to tote around a wart of a man, small and rotund in stature, who held his nose high into the wind, his spindly little excuse of a mustache flicking in the wind.

“Citizens,” he squeaked, barely over the vicious roar of the icy winter wind over the flattened eastern Chinese plains, “the time has come for you to take up arms and defend your emperor and his beloved country against the growing threat of the Hun army. I require one male from each household for conscription.”

Poppy closed her eyes, swallowing hard against the growing feeling of dread that arose in her memory, knowing full well that it would be her father who would be the one to go off to war. Her father who had a sickness that barely allowed him to hold a jian scabbard; her father who had survived two battles before and had returned with a cane and a limp; her father who had done enough for this country already; her father who shattered her heart into a thousand pieces when he had looked away from her in disgust as she begged the advisor to spare her father; the advisor who refused to speak to her or acknowledge her simply because of her gender.

The sun hadn’t quite risen over the horizon the next morning, but the temperature was so cold that a layer of frost had formed over her sleeping figure. Despite her exhaustion, the night had been restless, filled with the eyes of ancient beings who were terrified her. These savage beasts who bit at her clothing and pulled at her arms, dragging her kicking and screaming back to that country home.

“Poppylan,” they whispered. “Go home. Back to your father. Back to the safety of boiling tea kettle and the pomp and circumstance of your responsibilities as a woman in your family.”

Poppy had dug her fingers into the ground, fighting and clawing against the red eyes and blue eyes, the gnashing teeth and threatening jaws of the ancient ones.

“Know your place, girl.” They had hissed. “Know your place.”

And when Poppy flew out of bed, the tiny ice crystals sprinkling off of her body, which trembled viciously, she felt something ravenous awaken in her body as she threw off the blankets and tore off her shirt, exposing the damning evidence that had made her unworthy of attention, unworthy of speaking about law and foreign affairs, unworthy of raising her voice above the gentle sound of a whispering wind.

She unraveled the cloth that she had washed and dried the night before, starting at the front of her chest. She pulled the cloth bandages tight against her breasts, forcing them down and back, flattening them painfully and mercilessly.

“I didn’t know he had a son.” Captain Tora’s voice echoed in her head, those golden eyes sizing her up, lip pulled up into a sneer. “And looking at you now, I can see why he wouldn’t feel the need to mention you.”

She wrapped another layer of the cloth around her body, pulling it tight again, taking a deep breath in and out.

“Why are you even here?” Tora had sneered as she hit the ground once again, her lip bleeding, body aching, blood pooling in the corner of her mouth. “What use are you if you can’t even fight?”

Another layer, another breath, her heartbeat quickening as she wrapped and tightened; wrapped and pulled.

“This is all you can give me?” Tora screamed in her face as she dropped her arms, the two buckets of water she had been holding out in a T pose clattering to the ground, splashing water everywhere, tiny rivulets snaking away from the reminder of her failure on the ground. “You’re pathetic. A useless excuse for a man.”

Another layer, another breath, her heartbeat a roar in her ears as the end of the cloth neared, her fingers shaking, not from the cold, but from something else; another feeling awakening inside of her body, relentless and demanding, a rush of heat and adrenalin ripping through her veins like wildfire.

“I am not a coward!” She found herself yelling at the captain from the ground where she had been battered, beaten, kicked, and told to get up countless time. The captain, whose eyebrows shot up in surprise, quickly narrowed his eyes at the sudden insubordinate outburst. He had been taunting her for the last two weeks, trying to break her down a little at a time, trying to get through to, what he considered, a failure; a waste of his time.

“No?” He had whispered through gritted teeth, approaching her the way a cobra approached a mouse, his long red cloak swaying in the wind behind him. Poppy wiped the blood from her nose, sitting up to face him, sheer defiance in her eyes; an animal who had been backed into a corner for the last time and had nothing to lose. “If that’s so, show me.”

She gritted her teeth, a frightening shade of crimson from the blood that had stained her teeth, an endless reminder of the daily brutality of training in the Chinese army.

“You see that pole?” He pointed to a large wooden pole in the center of the camp that towered over the soldier’s tents, an arrow stuck at the top of the pole. “Retrieve the arrow.”

Poppy cast a contemptuous look at him, and pushed herself off of the ground, her body screaming against the bruised ribs and sore muscles as she moved to stalk toward the pole.

“Wait.” Tora commanded. Poppy froze, turning over her shoulder to glare at him, that wart of an advisor was standing next to Tora, heaving a slim leather box up. Tora opened the box and two circular golden weights tied to black leather bands emerged from the box in his hands. “You’re going to want to take these.”

She took the weights with a solid sneer, Tora dropping the weights into her hands like rag dolls as she struggled to keep herself from toppling to the ground. She hauled herself back upright, walking slowly and with purpose toward the pole, her brain trying to wrap around how she would manage to heave herself to the top of the pole to retrieve the arrow.

She felt the eyes of every soldier in the camp on her, anxious to see her humiliate herself as she had done again and again and again since she had been there.

She stood at the base of the pole, staring up at the arrow, the top of the pole swaying slightly in the wind. She did the only thing she could think to do: she launched herself at the pole, landing against it and hugging it with her hands and legs, awkwardly trying to shimmy up the pole, but the weights drug her right back down much to the delight and entertainment of everyone else at the camp, who howled with laughter at her failed attempt.

She tried again and again and again and every single time, she failed. The morning sun rose high into the sky; the noon sun fell over the horizon and slept at last in a bed of darkness, the moon her only light as she hit the ground again.

“Enough.” Tora’s voice growled. He held out a scroll to her. “There’s no place in the imperial army for a soldier as worthless as you are. Stay the night because the mountain passes are too treacherous to traverse, but go home at dawn.”

Poppylan tucked the final layer of cloth in and pulled her shirt on. She had disgraced herself in more ways than she could count: she had stolen her father’s horse, run away into the night, been beaten to a bloody pulp, been swept down a swollen river, been unable to hit a target with an arrow or avoid a flaming arrow, been unable to complete a weighted climb, and now, she had been humiliated and disgraced to the point that she had been asked to go home. But for Poppylan this was unacceptable.

She could handle being seen as a disgraceful, dishonorable pest of a woman who didn’t know her place, but she couldn’t handle bringing shame to her family name.

She took the weights, exiting her tent, the rest of the camp still sleeping as she approached the massive wooden pole. She secured the leather straps around her wrist and wrapped them around the back of the pole, leaning back, and bracing herself with her feet to balance out the weight. 

She took one step, pulling back, gritting her teeth against the pain.

“But look,” her father had said, gesturing to a cherry blossom that hadn’t yet bloomed. “I’ll bet that when it blooms, it’ll be the most beautiful of all.”

For her father, who had believed in her.

She took another step, grunting against the weight, her quads burning, her back burning, biceps singing out in agony as she heard the movement of tent doors being pulled back to glance out at the disturbance.

“You will teach her to hold her tongue in a man’s presence.” The advisor had growled, turning up his nose at her.

For all of the women, who were told they weren’t worthy or important.

“You may look like a bride, but you will never bring your family honor.” The matchmaker had told her when she failed to meet the impossible standards of beauty and grace and the strict rules that every obedient Chinese wife should meet.

She pulled hard against the weights, her feet slipping on the log, splinters driving into her heels, a murmur of anxiety coming from the onlookers on the ground. She dug deep, pulling herself back up, gritting her teeth, sweat beading on her forehead and falling down her face.

“Maybe I didn’t go for my father. Maybe what I really wanted was to prove I could do things right, so when I looked in the mirror, I’d see someone worthwhile.” She had told herself, staring into her reflection in her father’s jian night after night.

For she herself, who finally believed she was good enough.

Captain Tora yanked back the cloth door, annoyed at the amount of commotion outside of his tent. Just as he was ready to tear into the crowd of soldiers, an arrow whizzed by him, lodging itself into the ground with a thud. He stared at the arrow in surprise and then up at the log, his lips curling into a smile at the sight of the soldier sitting atop the log, weights over his shoulders, exhausted, but finally having broken through the barrier that was keeping him from achieving his full potential.

He had finally made a man out of her, or at least that’s what he believed. The truth of the matter was that she finally believed that she could, so she did.


	13. Stuck to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A and B Are Handcuffed Together

“Ya know,” Tora glanced over at Poppy, that devious glint in his eye, “if ya wanted to be handcuffed, all ya had to do was say so.”

“Just. Don’t.” Poppy sighed, leaning back against her bedpost, face flushing red as she pursed her lips, refusing to look Tora in the eye. She knew calling him was the worst idea that she had. He sauntered over to her bed, his eyes flicking down her cute little gold sequined party dress that was riding up high on her thighs right about now to those beautiful legs the back up to her face, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, hair a hot mess of curls sticking out everywhere.

“Had a little too much fun last night?” He put his hands on his hips, relishing this moment, planning on milking every last bit of it that he could as he leaned in to talk to her, her body straightening, goosebumps rising on her body at the feeling of his breath on her skin. Her breath, in turn, reeked of liquor from the rager she had partaken in the night before.

“Only one or two drinks, Dene. I have some manuscripts to comb over.” Poppy had told her, and Erdene waved her off with a grin,

“Yeah yeah. Sure sure. One or two because you’re a busy woman. Got it.”

Poppy had scowled at her and had even scowled as they arrived at the first bar together, Damien waiting near the front entrance as Erdene waved to him, doing a little hop of excitement at the same time. She was used to being the third wheel by this point, but she still wished she had a tall, grumpy tiger that she could latch onto for the night. 

“Please just get me out of these. My arm is starting to hurt.” Poppy whined, wriggling her wrist as it clanked against the bedpost. Tora’s grin grew even wider and he crossed his arms, pulling on his imaginary beard in thought,

“What do I get in return?”

Poppy’s gaze darkened.

“Are you really going to use my moment of weakness for your personal gain?” She growled, a low dark voice that sent shivers down his spine. He blinked a few times, took a breath, and said with utter surety,

“Hell yeah I am.”

Poppy sighed audibly.

“I’m gonna kill Erdene.” She grumbled, glaring at Tora, who produced a lock pick from his pocket.

“You’ve only had two drinks,” Erdene had told her, patting her on the head as Poppy lounged against the bar. “You’ve been so stressed. One or two more isn’t going to hurt anything.”

Poppy had, in fact, been about four drinks deep when Erdene patted her on the head like a tiny sheep. Erdene had just been off in a corner sipping her cocktail slowly and allowing Damien sample the cocktails himself off of her lips...and her tongue for that matter, but Poppy simply ordered another cocktail, enjoying the feeling of her feet dangling off of the barstool as she swiveled around on it, the world spinning in a kaleidoscope of blues, pinks, and purples.

“Fine.” Poppy growled at Tora. “One kiss.”

“Pfft. One?” He laughed incredulously. “That’s all your freedom is good for?”

“You tell me.” She shrugged. “I’ve never been handcuffed before.”

“Oh. That was a low blow, Bobby.” Tora tsked.

“Okay, okay. Two kisses.” She bargained, and Tora shook his head.

“Unlimited access to kisses for the next week.” He beamed, spinning the lock pick around on his fingers. Poppy clenched her teeth together in thought.

“Damien. Damien!” Poppy squealed, giggling and falling into Erdene, who giggled right back, both of them obviously three sheets to the wind.

“What?” Damien grumbled, rolling his eyes at the tangled mess of women in front of him.

“What are THOSE for?” Poppylan hiccuped, pointing at the handcuffs peeking out of Damien’s pocket. Erdene took in a sharp breath of realization and burst into laughter, Damien’s face turning crimson at the question.

“Uhhhh.” Was all Damien managed to scrounge up as an answer.

“I wanna try ‘em!” Poppylan laughed. “Do me! Put them on me!”

Poppylan held her wrists out, wriggling them in front of Erdene, who nodded furiously, laughing hysterically.

“Do it! Do it!” Erdene giggled. Damien rolled his eyes, producing the handcuffs from his pocket and clasping one end on Poppy’s wrist and the other on her bedpost. Poppy wriggled her wrist, making the cuffs clang loudly on the metal bedpost and she laughed so hard tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“Now, you come with me.” Damien grinned wolfishly, taking Erdene by the hand as she stumbled into him, the two of them whisking away, out of the apartment door, and into the car where there was a little more privacy.

After about ten minutes alone, Poppy called out,

“Guys?”

“Fine.” Poppy begrudgingly agreed. Tora nodded, moving closer to her, and working on the lock of the cuff on the bedpost, the cuff effectively snapping open.

“Oh, thank god!” Poppy sighed, jerking her wrist down with such a force that the other cuff wriggled around in the air, knocking the lock pick out of Tora’s hand, the cuff settling on his wrist and snapping shut.

Both of them looked down at the handcuff incredulously before Tora glared at Poppy, who smiled sheepishly, saying,

“Gosh, Tora. If you wanted to be handcuffed to me, all you had to do was say so.”

Tora’s lips curled into a devilish smile, and he turned toward her, purring,

“Is that so?”

Her smartass attitude vanished in a breath as she found herself in a situation she hadn’t entirely been prepared for. He moved closer to her, and she took a nervous step back. He chuckled darkly, taking a hold of the chain between the cuffs and yanking it. Poppy stumbled forward into him, her heart hammering in her chest as she glanced up at him.

“And—what if I did wanna be cuffed to ya? Does that mean we can play cops and robbers? I’ll be the cop. You can be the robber. I can just—arrest ya. Read you ya rights. Search ya for any dangerous weapons.” He leaned down toward her and she swallowed hard.

Suddenly, the apartment door flew open, Erdene flying in like a tornado waving a key around.

“Oh my god, Poppy!” She shrieked, running toward the room, before she paused, blinking a few times to take in the sight.

“I don’t remember cuffing her to you last night.” She grinned suggestively, crossing her arms and tapping the key on her wrist.

“Tora was trying to help me get out of the cuffs, and he got me free but I somehow cuffed him to me! Thank god you’re here?” She cried.

“Yeah.” Tora flatly responded, his face annoyed. “Thank god.”

Erdene moved into the room, eyeing Tora suspiciously before she unlocked Poppylan and in one swift movement cuffed Tora to the bedpost.

“You’re welcome.” Erdene winked at Poppylan, handing her the key. Poppy looked down at the key incredulously, and the her lips spread into a Grinch-ish smile as she turned toward Tora, that evil look in her eyes.

“Come on, Poppy. Unlock the cuffs.” Tora sighed.

“What do I get in return?” Poppy smiled. Tora blinked a few times before smiling back sweetly, and saying,

“Since ya asked, I plan on taking these handcuffs when I’m done, hooking ya back up to the bed where I can see ya—“

“Ooooookay. You’re free!” Poppy screeched, fumbling toward the bed and freeing him from the bedpost.

Erdene poked her head around the corner, shaking it in disappointment.

“What a waste.” She sighed, heading to her room to clean herself up.


End file.
